With Fragile Promises
by CountingAllTheStars
Summary: Set after Trenzalore, but before The Day of the Doctor. Plot update: With Clara in the clutches of the Great Intelligence, what lengths will the Doctor go to get her back? She was the only mystery worth solving - now she's the only person worth saving.
1. How It Started

From the moment she collapsed he knew something was wrong.

He didn't mean to get distracted and caught up in the events afterwards. He didn't have much say in the matter. If he had his way, Clara would always be his number one priority, through and through. Looking back, he wishes against reason that he had've fixed her then and there, and let the universe solve its own problems.

But it didn't work out like that. He had lied to himself. He had lied to Clara. He said everything was going to be fine. He'd said _she_ was going to be fine.

Looking at her now, he'd obviously never been so wrong.

This was all wrong. All of it. He couldn't lose her like this – no, he couldn't _lose_ her. Not ever. This couldn't be real.

What he couldn't comprehend (and he didn't think he ever would be able to admit it) is that he'd been slowly losing her all along. Ever since she stepped into his timeline and she collapsed into his arms for the first time.

Now she was barely there at all. It was like looking at the blazing sun and feeling the familiar heat warm your skin but slowly, before you even know what's happening, the fog starts to steam up the horizon until your skin is left cold and you're staring at a blank canvas with only memories to convince you that the warmth of its rays had been real.

Yes, it was like that. But so much worse.

And he couldn't even begin to think what it felt like for Clara.

* * *

** Chapter One: How It Started**

Every time his fears were confirmed, his figurative heart broke a little more, gradually creating a spider web of cracks ready to fall into pieces.

He monitored Clara, secretly, after the events of Trenzalore. Just to make sure she was as healthy and fine as she promised him she was – it's not that he didn't trust her. He didn't want to lose her.

The first few nights on the TARDIS weren't good at all.

Clara was more shaky and jumpy than usual, but otherwise, she appeared to be completely herself. Perfect Clara. He led her to her bed that night and made sure she was comfortable. Her hand lingered on his a fraction of a second longer than it usually would as he went to turn away. Noticing the small gesture, he stopped in his tracks.

"I can stay," he offered, hoping for selfish reasons that she would say yes.

Clara rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I'm fine, Doctor. Really. Stop worrying. I'm fine."

He nodded, not completely convinced but understanding she was exhausted of his fussing. "I'll be down the corridor if you need me."

He left.

But he didn't return to the console room like he said he would. No, definitely not. He sat on the metal ground outside her door, his head leaning against the metallic wall as he stared up at the ceiling. The TARDIS was listening in, he was sure of it. Perhaps it was a sign of how serious their recent situation had been that the TARDIS wasn't teasing them like she usually did, by hiding Clara's bedroom or doing something similar. She was quiet and patient, waiting if the Doctor needed her urgently – a bit like what the Doctor was doing with Clara.

A few hours later he started to hear a shuffling and a muffled sigh from inside Clara's room. The Doctor sat upright and pressed his ear against her door. Was she okay? Was he being too over protective?

It was the hushed and shaky breath that made him open the door.

There was Clara, so small and lost in her bedcovers, crying silently into her hands, while giving her pillow a gripping, desperate hug. The Doctor was by her side in a matter of moments, gently pressing her head against his chest and stroking her hair in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. He was whispering kind words of support as he struggled to hold her together, afraid that if he were to let go, she might drown in her own tears. Her tears were aplenty for such a small thing.

"What's wrong?" he finally whispered. "Do you want to tell me?"

There was a long pause.

"Bad dream," she muttered, burying her face deeper into his waistcoat.

He rested the hand that was stroking her hair onto the small of her back. "It wasn't real, Clara," he reassured her. "It was just a dream."

She pulled away from him at that. Her eyes were rimmed with red and still leaking unending tears. It contrasted harshly against the warm brown. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyebrows raised, as if in an epiphany. "It was, though. A long time ago that dream was real."

For once, the Doctor was lost for words. She was dreaming about her echoes, so it seemed. _Doesn't mean anything_, the Doctor told himself, _it's only natural. No need to look into it_.

"It wasn't you, Clara," he attempted, "just remember that. It wasn't _you_."

She agreed, he could tell by the way her shoulders relaxed and her eyes glanced downwards. "It felt like me. It felt so real. All of it."

"But you're here, okay? You're safe."

"I'm with you," she added. "Not running _to_ you."

He smiled at that. How could he not? His hand brushed against her cheek until she glanced up at him and met his eyes. He was glowing inside; all she needed was a little reassurance. That was all. Nothing else was wrong.

"Yes. You're with me. And nothing, ever again, is going to change that. I promise. You're fine."

A shadow of a smile played on her lips. Her own hand strayed into the air before hovering over his chest where her head once lay. She gently pressed her palm against one of his hearts. "And you're fine?"

It was a question with a hint of insecurity. He pulled her into a tight hug, breathing in her perfume and closing his eyes tightly, completely absorbed in Clara. His hearts raced as he felt her respond and loosely wrap her arms around his waist.

"Yes," he told her, honestly. "I'm fine as long as you're fine, Clara Oswald."

And as he let himself fall into a fake sense of security, that was when he made a major mistake: he believed in his heart over his head.

* * *

He stayed with her that night as a guest in her bed. She curled up under his arm with her head resting on his chest, falling asleep to the sound of his double heartbeat. It was the only way he could convince her to get back to sleep. If he was being perfectly honest, however, he was far from complaining. He could never explain why he felt like Clara owned a part of his soul, as if she was paying private rent and when she missed a payment; it was like his world would end. Or why his hearts irrationally fluttered every time she took a step too close. Perhaps there was some sort of humany explanation, but he'd rather live in bliss and enjoy these little moments without an annoying label attached to them.

The Doctor didn't sleep as much as a regular human. In fact, he barely needed to sleep at all. Although, with Clara's warmth against his body and feeling the most comfortable he had felt in years, he could really see how he would fall asleep like this and actually, the more he thought about it, didn't want this moment to end. He could get used to it.

No. He shook himself. No. Such thoughts would not do – this was completely innocent on Clara's behalf. She needed someone and he was there, that was all. It meant nothing more.

To her, at least.

They had a casual day in the TARDIS. Clara woke up and pretended like nothing happened. The Doctor tried to ignore the faint blush on her cheeks when she noticed he had stayed awake all night looking over her. Everything about her was adorable; from the way she tried to slide away from his protective grasp to the little flicker of her eyelids as she looked towards the door. He found that he was staring at her, marvelling in her presence and the very fact that she was still alive. It wasn't until she nodded pointedly to the exit that he realised she was trying to signal for him to leave.

"Do you mind if I get ready? I think I can manage that on my own," she said, light-heartedly.

The Doctor lurched to his feet as if her words had electrocuted him. His arms flailed in the air and he nearly tripped over his feet in his haste. "Yes – yes, of course. I didn't mean – I know what you – yes, I'm leaving. I'll be in the kitchen. Yes, the kitchen. Doing something… kitchen-y."

Once the door was closed behind him, he leaned against the wall to catch his breath. _Idiot_, he told himself, _idiot, idiot, idiot._

Breakfast, he decided. He could make Clara breakfast while he was in the kitchen. Something to wake her up properly and hopefully cheer her up in the process. Everyone loved it when someone made them breakfast. He could already imagine her beaming face and teasing retort when she arrived in the kitchen to find him cooking for her. Yes, that was the trick. This would surely make her better.

With a smile on his lips and an excited bounce in his step, the Doctor headed towards the kitchen, optimism already convincing himself to remain ignorant to the truth.

* * *

Clara was more than a little embarrassed when she woke up that morning to find the Doctor still lying in bed beside her. As much as she appreciated and wanted his company, she thought it best if she could get ready as quickly as possible to avoid any further conversation on what had happened last night. She really didn't want to talk about it.

Clara insisted she felt normal this morning. To the Doctor, and to herself. In all honesty, she did. As soon as she was on her own she reached up and stretched her muscles, despite the amount of sleep she got she still felt achy after the events of the previous day. Then she headed to her private bathroom, leaving some clothes on her bed which she could change into after her bath.

When she entered the bathroom everything came to her in a rush. Voices she couldn't recognise, images she couldn't explain and people she couldn't name replayed themselves in front of her eyes. A red mountain, a boy with thick brown hair, a teardrop landing in the dust, a spaceship burning on the horizon, a soft hand pulling her forward and a terrified scream escaping her lips.

No. That wasn't a memory. The scream was real.

She was lying on the bathroom floor, her head in her arms and hunched over in on herself. Warm hands were rubbing her back, muttering her name over and over, doing anything he could to calm her down.

Of course it was the Doctor. Who else?

Her eyes were crying again and she was shaking and she looked up to the Doctor with wide, frightened eyes as the world around her spun in endless circles and she was lost in the motion of the universe, all of her lives dying at once, crying at once, living at once, remembering at once. But which one was she? Who was she?

"I – I was running and his hand slipped – Matthew, his hand, I was holding it and then – then it was gone. Matthew. He l-let g-go. I went back for him, Doctor, I went back for him…" her hands clutched his jacket as her tears mixed with her confusion. "Doctor I… I was…"

How did that sentence end? She stayed quiet, searching. She couldn't read his expression, but then again, she couldn't make sense of anything anymore. Not even herself.

"Clara, Clara, listen to me. Clara." He was desperate. His hands held her head and forced her to look up at him. Were those tears in his eyes? Were they both crying? "That wasn't you. Clara. This is you. Right here. In my arms. Okay? Do you understand? Those memories are not from the _real_ you."

She continued to stare at him, lost in his eyes, but her tears stopped running.

"Do you remember your childhood?" the Doctor prompted, registering her reactions. "Do you remember your first Christmas? Your first love? Your first day at university?"

It took all of Clara's remaining strength to think up the silent answers to these questions. As the Doctor cuddled into her, Clara's mind rationally cleared. Her first Christmas – of course she remembered her first Christmas; she was sitting in between her mother and father in fluffy white booties, unwrapping an ironically large present in her tiny little hands. She held onto that thought and everything in association with it; the smell of the sparkling tinsel, the light kisses pressed to the top of her head, the frost tinting the living room window. That was her. How could she think any differently?

As she closed her eyes and reopened them, the Doctor leaned his head against her forehead. He maintained his grasp on her like she was the most precious thing in the whole world. She was the only mystery worth solving – now she was the only person worth saving.

He watched as Clara's eyes drained away from teary and confused and turned to clear and level-headed. She became aware of her surroundings again, and as she did so, let out a soft laugh as she noticed a stain on the Doctor's waistcoat.

"Doctor, why are you covered in egg and… butter?"

"Breakfast," he answered quickly, in distaste, "I was trying to make us breakfast. But for some reason the eggs wouldn't stay in the saucepan and the toast wouldn't let me butter it. Sorry."

She patted his chest fondly. What would she be without him? "Cereal will do the trick for me."

He smiled and looked down at her. What would she be without him? Living a normal human life without being endangered because of him. The guilt was almost unbearable. But his smile grew anyway, because well, she was Clara. He was the Doctor, and he loved everything about her.

_It's only natural_, the Doctor told himself as he helped Clara to her unsteady feet_, she needs time to heal. After that everything will be like it was_.

It had to be. It just had to.

* * *

Disclaimer: Doctor Who is not my own, all rights belong to the original sources of the BBC.


	2. Aurora Borealis

** A/N: Wow! Thank you all so much! I wasn't expecting such a positive response, it's wonderful. It means the world to me, really. I just hope I live up to all your expectations. This chapter is quite fluffy (you'll be glad of it later, trust me) and I'd really appreciate more reviews. Tell me what you think! Thanks for reading!**

** Chapter Two: Aurora Borealis**

They ate breakfast together in quiet content. The rest of the morning they spent talking about anything and everything except the events of Trenzalore. Clara just didn't want to get into the discussion because she knew the Doctor would make a fuss of her, and equally, the Doctor didn't want to talk about it in case he triggered Clara's sensitive memory. Due to this, however, an awkward tension hung in the room, neither person quite sure how to move around the subject.

The Doctor stared into his cereal bowl of caramel milk and chocolate moons and stars, suddenly not hungry anymore. His eyes strayed over to Clara, who was picking at her food, and a hollow pain echoed in his chest. He frowned and shook himself. He had to get rid of that feeling, he'd felt it before but never with Clara. He'd make it up to her, all of it. Anything she wanted, he would give her. The only thing was he knew she wouldn't ask, so he had to improvise.

"How about we take it easy today?" he considered. "Do something simple. Something to…"

He trailed off, not really wanting to mention anything on the sensitive subject. He gestured with his hand to show what he meant. Clara shot him a gentle smile, her spoon hanging loosely in her hand.

"Yeah. Yeah I think I'd like that." She pushed away her bowl and sat closer to him over the table. "Do you have anything in mind?"

"Yeah, I do actually." He beamed. "All you need to do is get dressed – wear something warm. Dress for winter."

He stood up and went to walk out of the room when he decided against it. He paused, a strange feeling encompassing him as he stared at Clara who was glancing downwards at the floor. He walked beside her, placing a delicate hand on the top of her head. Before he could help himself, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss into her hair. Clara closed her eyes at his touch, holding onto that feeling. She sighed as she felt him move away, leaving her alone in the empty kitchen.

When Clara joined the Doctor in the console room, she was wearing a white fluffy coat with a furry hood, a red scarf was hugging her neck and she had cream snowy uggs to match. The Doctor stopped his fiddling and glanced over at her, an involuntary smile pulling at his lips at the very sight of her. She looked like a tiny huggable teddy bear. He moved behind the central beam to hide the faint blush on his cheeks and called over to her from the other side.

"You're going to love this! A sight only seen every thousand years or so. Generations upon generations wish to see it once in their lives and only a few actually do."

"How come you told me to dress for winter but you didn't?" Clara questioned, following him around the opposite side of the beam.

The Doctor smirked and pushed his hand into his pocket. He extracted a TARDIS blue scarf from the depths and held it out to her, like a schoolboy showing his favourite teacher his new project. Clara raised an eyebrow and snatched it from his grasp. She stood on her tiptoes and reached up to him – the Doctor helped her out by slouching – and she securely knotted the silky material around his neck and tucked it into his waistcoat. Once she was satisfied, she leant away and observed her work. The Doctor had to fight against all of his initial instincts, because all he really wanted to do was pick her up and engulf her in a hug and show her just how much she meant to him. Something must've shown in his expression; now Clara was staring at him funny, as if _she_ was considering something herself. Was she having similar thoughts? Did he have something on his face?

"That scarf," she said, edging onto the subject cautiously, "it looks… cute. It looks cute on you."

Oh, she was calling _him_ cute? She had no idea.

He gave a nervous laugh and rested his elbow on the side of the silver console while his free hand stroked his silky scarf. As he did so, his elbow slipped and he almost tipped over, recovering just in time to not look too much of an idiot. He heard Clara's muffled laugh.

"You should've seen me a few faces back," he joked lightly, "my scarf was long enough for ten people."

A flicker of something indistinguishable passed over Clara's face. In a soft but cold tone, she said, "I did, remember?"

His eyes widened. He didn't mean – no, he wasn't saying… _Insensitive_, he shouted at himself inside his head, _think before you say something_. Now Clara had moved a few paces away from him, as if she was trying to forget what just happened, or perhaps everything altogether. He followed her lead and did the same, turning around and slamming down on a lever and pulling a plunger, eager to get away from this tension himself.

As he pushed two buttons close to Clara, he watched her carefully. She was observing the flickering lights on the console and tracing the edge of the steel with her forefinger. He paused before covering her straying hand with his own, cautious of her reaction. She met his gaze with large glistening eyes and her lip wobbled as she held back more tears. No, that's not what he wanted – he was supposed to be making Clara smile. That's what this was all about.

Forgetting Trenzalore.

Getting back to how they were before.

That's what they both wanted, wasn't it?

Yet, he only asked: "Ready?"

She nodded, more to herself than to him. "Yeah."

And they were off. The Doctor kept his hold on Clara's hand as they were sent into the time vortex; they were holding onto each other tighter than they were holding onto the console. When the TARDIS emitted a last shudder, Clara fell into the Doctor's chest and he fell onto the floor. Suddenly Clara was on top of him, her furry white hood tickling his chin and her shaky hands accidentally pushing into his stomach as she struggled to get back on her feet. The Doctor winced as he winded her, but said nothing of it since his face was feeling embarrassingly blushed.

"Where and when are we?"

"A planet called Cascavia in its 125th Decade," the Doctor announced, full of renewed energy as he walked towards the TARDIS doors. "Time passes very slowly on Cascavia because of its cold temperatures, meaning they measure time differently. It's a planet entirely made out of snow, ice and lakes. We're here to witness a phenomenon that only happens once every 125 Decades – which is around three hundred years in Earth time – and since this is the 125th Decade, no one has witnessed it yet. Space travel hasn't reached this far in the Spiral Galaxy. Cascavia won't be colonised until, oh I'd say in its 500th Decade. This planet is rather new, in the scheme of things. We're the first to walk on its surface."

Clara followed him to the TARDIS doors, a little bit more of a bounce in her step. The Doctor noticed her face had cleared of some of the worry which had previously lined it this morning and he really did start to believe he was making her forget. He was distracting her with the magic of the universe, and Clara was willingly drinking it up like her favourite type of heart-warming tea.

"Have you seen it before?" Clara asked.

"No, I've always wanted to, just never found the right moment. It's a bit like how everyone has that one book they've heard all about and really wanted to read but they've never gotten around to buying it."

"So, another first then."

He smiled at that and took her hand. "Why focus on the past, Clara Oswald, when there's so much to experience for the first time in the future?"

She considered this for a moment as she looked up at him. Her eyes rested on his TARDIS blue scarf and his bowtie just peaking over the silk material. As she swept a strand of hair out of her face, the Doctor tugged on her hand and pulled her closer and at the same time, they both stepped out into the new world outside those doors.

It was the cold wind that hit Clara first, followed by the crunch of snow under her boots. Her cheeks stung from the icy coldness but as she focused on the warmth of the Doctor's hand clutching her own, everything else melted away.

They were standing on a completely flat snowy surface. On the far horizon stood two large and magnificent blocks of ice, carved out into waterfalls, with shards of pebble-shaped crystals falling into the giant yet completely still and frosty water below. The lake spread as far as the eye could see. Where the snow ended and the lake began, the water was pure ice, shining and polished, showing the calm waves of the water underneath its surface. The actual lake was so numbingly cold that a gentle smoke clouded around the waterfalls and swept across the fresh snowy ground. The sky was a clear night sky, or perhaps it was always night here, with small twinkling stars sprinkled across the velvet black horizon like flour on a chopping board. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

"It's… stunning," Clara gasped; now leading the Doctor by the hand, closer to the lake.

He was staring at her, his eyes reflecting the brilliant white snow. "Yeah, it is."

Clara stopped at the end of the snow, where the lake met the firm ground. The Doctor took another step forward until they were standing on the slippery clear ice. Clara looked down to steady herself from slipping. She caught her reflection in the calm water. She was staring at herself curiously, making sure she was the same person while looking for any dissimilarities from her former self. Had she changed? Or were her eyes always aged, like they had seen a thousand lives?

"In a few moments…" started the Doctor, but he didn't need to explain any further.

For the sky had lit up into a hundred colours. It was like an aurora borealis on Earth, but ten times bigger and triple the amount of shades and variations of colours contrasting and dancing together. Purples and red swirled above their heads, greens and yellows fought to be the brightest, aqua and blues overshadowed their opponents while orange and pinks scurried in between the gaps. But that wasn't all; the calm lake at their feet reflected the canvas of colour like a giant mirror across the landscape, and suddenly the horizon was indistinguishable, water and sky merged into one. The celebration of colour spread onto the snow and the icy smoke caught onto the light, turning into different shades of pastels. The two crystal waterfalls snatched the colours from the sky and turned them to liquid stars, glittering like fairy lights on Christmas Eve as they plunged into the vibrant water. The whole landscape was alight with vibrancy and radiating energy, yet adopting a serene and gentle calmness from the cold surroundings.

Clara was lost for words. "Doctor… I think this is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

The Doctor's eyes strayed back to her face, watching her as she watched the fantastic colourful scene. "Yeah," he agreed, considering her statement with a sad smile, "it's certainly one of the most beautiful for me."

When she looked back at him her smile was brighter than anything this planet could throw at them. He felt his heart swell with warmth despite the frosty temperatures.

"When people move here, they will call it the Aurora of Dancing Colours, taken from Earth English, of course, since humans will be some of the first to live on this planet," the Doctor explained in a whisper. Anything louder felt like it would disturb the magic in front of them. "Even when the Aurora isn't around, people will still celebrate the day, in order to pass on the message for people to remember in three hundred years time until the next one. It's a bit like Christmas, actually, with certain festive foods and traditions. It's rumoured that every planet in the Spiral Galaxy can see the sparkling colours of Cascavia without a strong telescope. Nothing quite like it. The strongest and brightest aurora borealis in the whole universe."

"Magical," Clara muttered, looking back at the lake and sky.

The Doctor let go of her hand and Clara immediately looked up at him, questioningly. He shrugged off his long purple blazer and spread it on the snowy ground, gesturing for her to sit down.

"You're going to be freezing!" she told him.

He brushed off her concern. "We're obviously going to stay here a while. I'm fine, just sit down. I've felt colder."

Clara, reluctantly, followed his lead and sat beside him on top of his jacket. He regained his hold on her hand and snuggled in closer to her, revelling in her company. The patterns he was tracing along the back of her hand warmed Clara through to her very chest, and she found herself, genuinely, forgetting the events of the previous day.

They sat in silence, watching the patterns and colours, in bliss.

But something was still needling the Doctor. He knew he had to say it, he just couldn't find the right moment. Of all the brave and reckless things he'd ever done, sometimes it was saying the right words which felt the scariest. He'd experienced that before, more than once. He didn't want to make the same mistakes with Clara. So, as they were both staring at the aurora, the Doctor cleared his throat and pushed the words tumbling out of mouth.

"I'm sorry."

She didn't look at him, and he didn't look at her. He was talking to the sky. Her shoulders slackened as his stiffened.

"I hope you know that. I'm really sorry."

He didn't need to say what for. He couldn't get it out. She knew. She always knew.

There was another moment of silence. And then;

Delicately, Clara said, "I don't regret it, you know."

He looked at her at that. "How can you not?" he asked, scandalised.

"I saved you. Over and over. It's about time someone saved you after all the saving _you've_ done." She was still looking towards the horizon. He gripped her hand tighter.

"You died over and over, Clara. How can I live knowing I'm only alive because an echo of you died each time?"

Clara turned to him, her eyes wide and glistening. Both of their faces were reflecting the colours of the aurora, obscuring how they viewed one another. "You have to live with it," she teased, lightly. Although, the Doctor could swear there was an undertone of seriousness to her voice. "Otherwise, it was all for nothing."

He didn't know what else to say to her. He gently nudged her arm, asking, "How are you?"

His words were laced with so much concern that Clara couldn't bring herself to answer truthfully.

"Fine. Alive. That's all that matters. We're both alive."

The Doctor, resisting all urges of common sense, placed an awkward arm around her waist and pulled her closer. She voluntarily rested her head on his chest. Clara listened to the sound of his double heart beat as she marvelled at the beauty around them. The freezing wind ruffled their clothes and hair, but neither partner felt it. They were too absorbed in one another to fully care.

"When does it end?"

He wasn't sure what she meant; the scene in front of them? Her bad memories? The tension of recent events? Or just them, together, against the world in a flying blue box?

He didn't want to ask.

With a certain fragility, he answered, "Not everything ends. Not always."

It didn't matter if they were both being dishonest, because right now, they didn't want to listen to the truth. They wanted to live in ignorant bliss, just for now, with renewed hope in their hearts, surrounded by these luxurious colours and miles away from rational reality. Another first.

The Doctor really did think they deserved it.


	3. What Matters

**Chapter Three: What Matters**

It was safe to say, after three more nights full of bad dreams for Clara, that the Doctor was ready to put down some ground rules.

Clara, under no circumstances, was to sleep on her own. And, since he was the only other person aboard the TARDIS, the Doctor was taking it upon himself to keep her company.

Every night since Trenzalore, Clara would wake up in a state; crying, shaking, and on particularly bad occasions, screaming. The Doctor would stay in the corridor outside her room, just waiting for it, and each time his suspicions were proven to be correct, his heart shattered a little more. It soon became apparent that the only way Clara could get a peaceful night's sleep was for the Doctor to stay with her and keep her emotions under control.

He just wasn't sure how he was going to mention all this to her without getting ridiculously embarrassed and, in some way, offending her. _That_ was the stressful part.

So, a few days later, when he noticed dark purple circles under Clara's eyes and a yawn appearing at her lips, he threw down his cleaning cloth and took a stand. A slightly voice-shaking, hand-flailing stand but a stand all the same.

"This can't go on anymore Clara!" he barked, a little more forcefully than originally intended. "I've had enough! You heard me, I've had enough!"

Clara jumped at his tone as she sat on the TARDIS chair in the console room. Her eyes gradually widened in realisation and her mouth slowly gaped at him. "You've – you've had enough?" she echoed.

"Yes!" he said, a little unsure this time. "Some things have to change around here. We can't go on like this."

Straightening up, Clara frowned. Her head moved side to side, wearily catching on to what the Doctor was implying. She didn't know what to say. She thought back to the last few days in the TARDIS – the wonderful day at Cascavia, the sleepless, terror-filled nights, and her constant depression when he wasn't trying to cheer her up. Of course, she completely understood where he was coming from. This was his TARDIS, after all. He could do what he liked. Still, the deep, hollow pain in her chest at the very thought of it, didn't make her like the idea.

"Of course," Clara said, resigned. "I understand what you mean."

"I can't let you – what?" he asked, his thoughts flung from his mind. "You understand?"

She nodded, now staring at the floor. "Yeah, yeah, I do. We can't go on like this; it's not fair on you."

The Doctor stopped, puzzled. He leaned against the console and rethought over her words. Once again she was focusing on him, like it was some big chore for him to look after her, even when it was his fault she risked her life in the first place. This was easier than he originally thought it was going to be, Clara picked up on what he wanted to say rather quickly. Maybe she was having similar thoughts herself. Somehow that made him glow inside.

"And you – you agree? You don't mind?"

Clara looked up at him. Her eyes were dull and hurt, but she put on a good show at hiding it. The Doctor could see through her, however. Clara was almost as good as him at the whole 'I'm completely fine' act. Only someone who has seen and experienced great sadness can master it, something the Doctor doesn't want to overly think about when it comes to Clara. Seeing her like this everyday destroys him.

"It's up to you. If you don't want me here –"

"What?"

"Then I can't stop you, it's your TARDIS." She laughed in spite of herself, but it came out more of cry for help. "Why would you still want me here? I keep you awake all night, my mind is scattered over a thousand different places and sometimes I struggle to remember who I am."

"Clara –"

"You're the Doctor," she continued, ignoring him. "You live for excitement and danger. No wonder you're tired of me. I'd be tired of me too."

He was over to her in a second, as soon as he realised how she interpreted his words. He kneeled down in front of her, his hands grasping her hands until she met his gaze. His hazel oval eyes were curved in concern as he used one of his hands to brush her hair and cup her cheek. "Clara. Clara, Clara, Clara," he repeated, over and over. His thumb skimmed underneath her eye just as a sorry tear fell from her lashes. "That's not what I'm saying at all. I don't want rid of you! I love you here, how could I not?"

Now it was Clara's turn to be confused. "What?" she whispered. "I thought –"

"No! No. Never. I'm sorry if you thought that's what I meant – I was actually referring to your sleeping pattern. It can't go on, it's not good for you," he explained. He warmed up her cold hands in his own, sheltering her from the coldness that constantly seemed to be attacking her. She blinked a few times and took a moment to register the turn in events. The hollow pain in her chest slowly passed and was replaced with a burning relief and joy. She breathed out a laugh, a proper one this time, and responded to the Doctor's touch.

"Well, that was a major misinterpretation," she joked. The Doctor smiled at her brightening expression.

"Sorry, I really should've been clearer. It's just I had an idea how to stop your nightmares and I didn't know how to mention it without – well, without being… me."

"What was your idea?"

"Well, I um…" he trailed off. _Awkward again_, he said to himself, _but awkward is definitely better_. "Your bad dreams stop when you're with me, right?"

A faint shade of pinkness spread over Clara's cheeks. "Yes."

"So, I was thinking. Yes, I was thinking that I could – well, I mean, with your permission and only if you feel comfortable enough –"

Clara's soulful brown eyes had retrieved their old spark. It reminded the Doctor of how things were before, how that initial mischievous spark had made him so interested in the impossible girl. He was glad it wasn't lost in her confusion, but at the same time, he was alerted to the fact he was just about to be teased disgracefully.

With a smirk, Clara asked, "Doctor, are you asking to sleep with me?"

The Doctor pulled back, his hands unlatching from hers but not parting completely. They rested on her knees as his eyes widened and his eyebrows rose while his mouth formed a perfect, comical 'o.'

"Clara I, what? How did you – I didn't, what?"

She was beaming at him, her eyes glittering, and she sat forward to place her hands on top of his. "You're asking to sleep in my bed, with me, every night to fight away my bad dreams, aren't you?"

He looked at her for a few moments, moving his head in a slow nod. He scratched the back of his neck and pouted ever so slightly, muttering, "Yes, I – that's exactly what I meant, actually."

"What did you think I meant?" Clara pressed, on purpose. She loved seeing how he got all flustered when she teased him and the faint blush on his cheeks made him all the more endearing.

"Nothing! No, nothing, really, I just thought… Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?"

Clara smiled and pulled him closer. Closing her eyes, she pressed a light kiss to his forehead. "Yes," she whispered against his hair, glad that he couldn't see her own embarrassed happiness. "I'd like you to keep me company. My own knight in shining… tweed blazer and bowtie."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows, his expression turning into one of self-admitting arrogance. "Yes, well, bowties are _cool_."

* * *

It was because of his earlier streak of confidence (and Clara's sudden bountiful energy) that the Doctor plucked up the courage to risk taking Clara on another adventure. After all, Cascavia was a success. He racked his brain for good places to take her; places he knew were safe and peaceful yet exciting enough to rid her mind of any remaining shadows of Trenzalore. He knew something was still troubling her; some of her words from earlier still worried him, not to mention her sleepless nights.

Venilon II would probably be a good place to start. _No_, he told himself_; hold on, I'm forgetting about the black-fanged Dragon. _He'd say Lax the Stolen Empire if it wasn't for the fairy-like pixies that terrorised travellers who wandered too far into their territory. That's it! He'd take her to Old mDaríu to see the fairies. The planet was covered with water and land, quite similar to Earth, but in some zones (what the Daríug call countries) fairies lived among the woodland. The Doctor had been there before, saving the planet from an invasion of cybermen, and the fairies had invited him to a victory party in thanks. He was sure Clara would love it there with its natural magic and fantasy and he wouldn't mind visiting again either, come to think of it.

There was something he had to do first.

"Clara," he said, dragging a chair over beside her, sitting at the kitchen table. "You said earlier that you struggle to – what was it? – remember who you are."

He waited to judge her reaction. Clara's eyes flitted downwards to the table and her face paled slightly. She started to twist her mother's ring on her little finger as her shoulders tightened. "Oh, it was nothing. Doesn't matter."

"_You_ matter," the Doctor started to insist. "Is it true?"

"Yes – no. No, I just get confused. But then you help me, don't you? You clear my head." She glanced up at him, giving him a small insecure smile, as if she was ashamed or embarrassed.

The Doctor took her hand on the table and pressed a small, gentle kiss on her palm. "I'm here. As long as you need me."

Although she was thankful, truly thankful, Clara hated being the one in need. She hated to be the one with sympathy thrown her way, the one who had to be looked after or kept an eye on. She was used to being the carer, the one people leaned on for support, ever since she was sixteen. Anything else made her feel guilty and uncomfortable. Yet, if she was being one hundred per cent honest with herself, without the Doctor guiding her right now and keeping her memory on track, Clara knew she wouldn't be herself right now. Not completely.

It was just how he stared at her which made her heart swell and flutter uncontrollably. She'd never seen someone so concerned and loving and empathetic at the same time, and all she wanted to do was reach over, pull him closer and kiss him.

What? Where did that come from?

"I want to take you somewhere," the Doctor said, interrupting her surprised thoughts. "Cascavia was brilliant. I know somewhere you'll enjoy just as much. What do you think?"

"Yeah!" Then, realising she sounded too eager, she toned it down. "Yeah. Might as well put the snogbox into action."

She felt her own cheeks pinking at those words, especially as her mind subconsciously flicked through how and why she felt the fleeting urge to kiss the Doctor. He didn't see her like that, she was sure of it. Yes, they flirted when the time was right, they cared for each other, on more than one occasion she had briefly thought about how it would be like to kiss him – but that's normal, isn't it? When you were travelling with an attractive, awkward alien who offered you the world in a small blue box, it was only natural to be curious. Anyone would have to remind themselves not to fall in love with everything in his world.

But, somehow, this was different. It was sudden urge, like an impulse, something she hadn't felt in some time. Almost as if she – no, no way. Did she fancy him?

Did he fancy her?

Since her mind was floating in irretrievable and ungoverned territory, Clara physically shook her head and let the Doctor lead her to the console room. She hardly listened to his mumbling and ranting, instead she started to focus on the smaller details. How his eyes would widen when he saw her smile, how his hand held onto her more tightly than she responded, how he would look at her when he thought she wasn't looking.

The evidence was almost undeniable. They were like two thirteen year old sweethearts.

Or, perhaps it was more than that. Perhaps, just maybe, they were two people who had recently come very close to losing one another, and now feared what life would be without each other, and neither knew how to say all this without hurting their own vain egos or prepared enough to let another person into their already broken hearts. They both seemed to implicitly know that as soon as you let someone in, something let them go.

Clara helped the Doctor fly the TARDIS into the time vortex by holding onto one lever and pressing down one button. They seemed to be the only controls the Doctor would trust her with when flying his ship. They beamed at each other from across the console; both excited to be on the move again, both enjoying the other's enthusiasm.

Clara felt fine – the best she had felt since Cascavia as the TARDIS landed and the Doctor threw open the doors. It wasn't until she stepped out onto mDaríu that something inside her changed.

Her eyes scanned over the scene in front of her; the impossibly high trees with twisted, curved branches and leaves hanging like teardrops, the yellow straw grass faintly scented of lemon and avocados, faint pink glitters zooming through the trees and shrubs as the wings of the fairies caught the light in their fast movements and the slow trickling sound of a rock pool nearby.

Then, as she looked again, everything seemed familiar and new, recognisable yet mysterious all at once. An overwhelming sense of déjà vu overcame her, almost as if she was standing away from her body and observing the planet from another person's eyes.

It was only a few seconds later that the memories which were hers but didn't belong in her head began to take over her mind.

_She was walking through the long yellow grass, feeling it scratch her knees as she slowed down into a fast walk. She couldn't run anymore, she didn't have the energy. Two people were on either side of her, camouflaged to their surroundings, weird and extraordinary gadgets in their hands. She looked to the blonde woman on her right, her hair tied into a tight ponytail, before glancing to the man on her left, a bruise painting one of his cheeks. _

_ "That's it, isn't it?" said the woman, a little breathlessly. She was staring at something just beyond the shade of the trees, her face frowning in concentration. _

_ "Yes," Clara heard herself say. "God, it's bigger than I thought it'd be."_

_ "We've always been ready for a challenge," smirked the man. He shot Clara an affectionate wink. "Finally found one big enough." _

_ Clara glared at the giant structure on the horizon. It was around the size of a football stadium, entirely made of metal and a large, double-decker bus high fence going all the way around it. The cyberman factory. _

_ Unknown to either of the three, and just behind Clara's shoulder in the distance, was a bright blue box standing between the trees. _

Clara fell against the Doctor. Rather instinctively, he gracefully caught her as she leaned into his solid body. Her eyes were closed as if she was unconscious. Adrenaline started to kick in: what had he done? What had happened? Everything was going well –

Sooner than he expected, Clara's eyes opened once more and she grasped onto his jacket, clawing him for support. "It's fine," he told her, struggling to find something to say, "You blacked out, that's all. Can you remember why? Clara?"

Another flashback overtook her.

_ "Are you ready?" _

_ "Yeah," Clara answered confidently to Marco, the man. How could she forget his name? "I don't know why, Marco, but I have a feeling about this. Not a particular feeling, just a feeling. Like this is what we're supposed to do."_

_ "Well, not many people would have the balls," he joked. When he considered her closer, in a small whisper he tried to offer her comfort. "I'm sorry about –"_

_ "It's fine," she said at once. She didn't want to linger on the subject. The pain in her chest told her it would hurt too much. "We have a planet to save. Much more important."_

The Doctor was holding her, both of their forms almost lost in the tall grass. Now some of the fairies had come to help, floating in the air above the couple, their wings beating to the rhythm of a quickstep.

As Clara regained consciousness again, she gasped, "We were breaking into the industry – we couldn't let them convert more people. Doctor, they had terrorised the planet! The planet… The whole planet…"

Her eyes started to close again. The Doctor shook her, trying to keep her awake or alert. "Clara, stay with me! Your memories are leaking through, I'm sorry; one of your echoes must've been here before. Clara!"

She wasn't listening. Or couldn't. She went onto mutter, "Only three of us… Only three…"

Now something was triggered in the Doctor's mind's eye. What had the General told him, after he destroyed the cybermen? _If it wasn't for those three reckless agents creating a convenient distraction, we would've never got out alive. I don't even know their names, poor kids._ Was one of them Clara? Is that how she saved him that time?

Clara shrieked in his arms.

_ They were creeping through the corridors of the Cybus industry, electrical impulses in their hands and hushed breaths escaping their lips. The control room had to be somewhere; it felt as if they were searching forever. A low-level panic started to pump through Clara's veins – what if their plan didn't work? What if they broke into the control room, took down the power and called for back up and no one came? What if they were killed before they even got there? _

_ Marco had his back pressed against the opposite corridor, his eyes pressed on Clara. Jessy was on the other side of her and she could feel her friend's shaky hands gripping onto the cold iron wall behind them. Clara glanced around the corridor and squinted in confusion. _

_ A tall man with a long coat and a giant multi-coloured scarf was standing at the closest doorway. He was pointing a small silver tool that Clara couldn't recognise towards the tightly shut door, his brown curly hair bouncing as he shook his head in frustration. _

_ Marco hissed over to her and Jessy. Using only a flicker of his eyes, he told them, _that's the control room_. But who was the man? _

_ The door slid open with a _clank!_ That wasn't all – around twelve cybermen walked through the threshold, bellowing accusations in their robotic voices. _

_ "You are the Doctor!"_

_ "The Doctor must be stopped!" _

_ "He's going to give away our position!" Jessy whispered in Clara's ear. Clara didn't have the energy to tell her that even if they had reached the control room first, the cybermen would've still been there to stop them. _

_ Clara was overtaken with a sudden protective flare as she stared at the cybermen advancing on the lonely man. Her eyes stung with unshed tears. Not quite knowing what she was doing, or why, she took a single step forward. _

_ "Ossy!" Marco called out, using his usual endearing nickname for her. "What are you doing?" _

_ Clara spun around; her mind suddenly clear as if something had just told her what to do – how to solve this. "We have to help him, create a distraction! If we do that he can get into the control room and bring down the industry. We have to, Marco."_

_ Her last sentence was more of an apology. She didn't know why_.

The Doctor smothered Clara's face with kisses, each one telling her how sorry he was for what she was remembering. A small, faintly sparkling, pink fairy landed on his shoulder. The Doctor glanced at him, sideways, beseeching him for help.

"There is one thing you can do, Time Lord," the fairy advised him, his small face lined with concern. Trust it to be a fairy's intuition to give him away so easily.

"She told me never to go inside her head again. She wasn't happy when I did it the first time with the Shroud," the Doctor explained, torn in his decision.

The fairy crossed his little arms and said wisely, "Probably due to her own insecurities and pride. What could possibly be the worst outcome; her injured pride or losing her completely?"

When he put it that way, the decision was clearly easy.

Clara gave a sudden yelp, obviously in pain, and her body curled in on itself.

_ Jessy had fallen a few corridors back. It was just Clara and Marco now, running for their lives, dodging beams of light at every turn. Marco threw the second last electrical impulse bomb down the corridor. The deep rumbling under their feet told them the corridor was blown up into pieces, taking the cybermen with it. All Clara could do was hope the strange Doctor was at least halfway through his meddling in the control room, especially since their distraction had already cost so much. _

_ A Clara remembered back, the next part replayed itself in her mind almost systematically with only the shock and pain to tell her it had been real. _

_ Only one cyberman had survived Marco's electrical impulse bomb. It was too close and far too fast for them to escape from it. A single beam of light flew through the air from its shooter and hit Clara squarely in the stomach. Just as she fell to the ground, an angry roar tore from Marco and he lunged forward to zap the cyberman with his hand pulse. The cyberman and human fell to the ground together, one alive and one not living to begin with. _

_ Marco rushed over to Clara, sweaty and panicked, moving Clara's head into his lap. She was pale and disorientated, no blood to signal life was leaving her, only her frantic breathing and snorts of discomfort. _

_ "Ossy – Ossy, stay with me!" Marco begged, tears forming in his eyes. In a different tone, "Clara Oswald, don't you dare leave me. We're survivors, you and me. A team." _

_ "S-Sorry," Clara muttered under her breath, but the meaning was still there. "You've always been faster, Marco." _

_ Marco laughed in spite of the situation. "And you've always been smarter!" _

_ A faint boom-boom boom-boom of loud, heavy metallic feet sounded from further down the opposite corridor. With one side destroyed and the other full of cybermen, Marco only needed to look down at the dying girl in his arms to willingly make his decision. _

_ "Stay with me, Ossy, just until I do this. Promise?" _

_ He started to uncork the last electrical impulse bomb. _

_ "No!" Clara shouted, struggling. "You'll blow us both up! You have to get out, Marco. _Live_." _

_ He stroked her hair out of her eyes, fondly, holding her as close as he could. "I lived so long with you; I forget what it feels like without you. I don't really want to find out, either." _

_ "You're just reinforcing the fact that I'm smarter." But Clara's eyes were closed now and her breathing was slowing. Marco felt more scared at that than he did at the approaching cybermen. _

_ The first few cybermen stopped in the corridor, facing them, just as Marco felt Clara slip away. He closed his eyes, physically shaking, and pressed his lips against Clara's – _

_ Then threw the bomb as hard as he could against the metal floor. _

Clara opened her eyes, slowly and calmly, her mind clear and levelled. The Doctor was holding her, his two hands gently pressed against her temples. Their eyes met, both glistening with unshed tears. She knew what he'd done; she knew he was in her mind. She knew he was the reason why the rest of the flashback was gone and why the memory was slowly slipping from her grasp. She just didn't know if it was a good thing or not.

They remained like that for a while, both of them silently staring at one another, lost in the deep yellow grass with the fairies whizzing around their heads, the pink glitter leaving trails like a path of tiny sparkling stars. Slowly, as if her limbs were made of lead, Clara broke off the Doctor's unsure and guilty gaze to wrap her arms loosely around his shoulders, breathing in his familiar scent as a source of comfort.

* * *

**A/N: There's a reference here to the Doctor Who Book "Shroud of Sorrow." Sorry, if you haven't read it; basically the Doctor saves Clara by going inside her mind and when she wakes up, she isn't very happy about it.**

**I can't thank you enough for all of your beautiful reviews. Let me know what you think of this chapter – hit or miss? – by leaving me a wee review, because I'm not too sure about it. Thank you for all your support! **


	4. Thank You

**A/N: Over 1000 views! Thanks a lot. The last chapter didn't get many reviews, so I'm wondering if it was confusing or just not good. Feedback of any form is appreciated! This chapter starts from the end of the last. Enjoy.**

** Chapter Four: Thank You**

Lost in their hug, the Doctor closed his eyes and pressed his face into Clara's small shoulder. As soon as he thought she was getting a little better, he screwed it up. It was a bad idea coming here – he should've known that anywhere he'd been previously which had consisted of a near death experience might mean Clara had been there with him. Now he had invaded her privacy once again by psychically linking their minds. He only witnessed snippets of what was replaying itself in Clara's mind; his own long scarf during his fourth regeneration, the flashing light as the cyberman made Clara its target and the young man cradling Clara in his arms.

Perhaps the Doctor hadn't fully realised it before, but Clara had indeed lived a thousand lives in a thousand places, loved, made mistakes, had hopes, flying dreams and then, all for him, died in some way.

And all of that was in her mind, screaming to get out. No wonder she had nightmares, she was lucky it didn't drive her insane.

The Doctor waited until Clara pulled out of the hug. She met his gaze, as if she was embarrassed, with her eyes flicking downwards. "Thanks," she muttered. She sounded drained, like she had just run a marathon without a moment rest.

"I know you told me not to do that again," the Doctor put in, hurriedly trying to explain himself, "but I couldn't stand seeing you – I had to do something, Clara."

Clara frowned. "What did you do? My head – it feels… Clear. Quiet. Normal."

There was a long pause between each of the words as Clara came to terms with her new freedom. The Doctor smiled, searching for her approval. "I placed a psychic resistance inside your mind! It's basically a barrier, a shield, which doesn't allow any memory that didn't originate in your own mind to break through and disrupt your consciousness."

"So it… suppresses the memories of my echoes? From your timestream?"

The Doctor gave an encouraging nod.

Clara emitted a breath of relief, to the Doctor's own delight. "Why didn't you do that before?!"

He shuffled, his hand brushing away the suggestion. "The last time I did something similar you told me not to do it again."

Grinning, Clara leaned across the distance between them and pressed a gentle kiss to the Doctor's cheek. He mercilessly blushed, his limbs losing focus of what they were doing as he tried to push himself up from the ground. With a shaky hand he helped Clara up too since her balance was still a little uncoordinated. For the first time since arriving, Clara could see the fairies. Her eyes lit up with excitement as she followed the trails of pink glitter flying through air at lightening speed around their heads. Some of the more curious fairies hovered at eye-level, their wings fluttering and beating out a rhythm reminiscent of tiny sleigh bells. Clara let out an overjoyed laugh and instinctively reached for the Doctor's hand. Slowly he pulled her back towards the TARDIS doors, his previous excitement for exploring the planet ruined, and wanting nothing more than to get Clara back to safety. Clara didn't protest, the exhaustion of the recent memory showing itself as dark shadows underneath her eyes. He held open the door for her and watched as she walked inside. When he turned back to have one more look at the planet, he was surprised to see the fairy who had talked to him previously flying beside his head.

"A temporary fix," the fairy said in a passive manner. "She will continue to get worse."

"Not under my watch," the Doctor replied, a little too forceful for it to be entirely friendly. The fairy didn't seem to take offence. Instead, he gave the Doctor a miniature salute, his little all-seeing eyes telling him he was already sorry for what was to happen next. The Doctor secretly hated his assured intelligence but instead of arguing that he would do anything to make Clara better, he simply nodded in the fairy's direction and stepped back inside the TARDIS.

Clara was lying down on one of the chairs in the console room, her head lolling to one side and her eyes firmly closed. The Doctor smirked as he slowly wandered over to her, unable (and not even trying) to shake the familiar warm glow radiating inside his chest at the very sight of her. At that moment the TARDIS gave a loud _thrum_, her central beam flashing. He silently glared at the control panel, pressing a finger to his lips in a silent shush. He could feel the TARDIS's disapproval, but continued to make his way over to Clara. Her mind needed to rest, to sleep, in order for the shield to fully work. With a little pause, the Doctor bent down and delicately shifted Clara into his arms.

His thoughts wandered back to the last time he had held her like this, only a few days ago at Trenzalore. Clara's head snuggled into the crook of his arm, and she muttered, "What're you doing?"

"Taking you to bed," he responded lightly, clutching her tighter. "You need to rest."

"Mmm," she murmured in what sounded like an agreement. "I can make it there myself."

The Doctor chuckled. Clara could feel his chest vibrate beside her body at the notion, making her smile. "You can barely lift your head, Clara. I don't mind taking you. Do you… Do you want me to stay?"

"Yes," sleepy Clara said a little too quickly. "Please."

He made his way down the corridor, purposefully staying quiet so he could listen to Clara's even breaths. The TARDIS opened the doors to Clara's bedroom without waiting for him to ask. Once he was inside, he removed her shoes and pulled back her duvet. As if she was as light as a feather and as precious to him as one of the most sought for jewels in the entire universe, he placed her in the centre of the bed. When they lost contact for a brief moment, Clara's hand subconsciously searched for him. The Doctor kicked off his own shoes and took off his waist coat before hopping in beside her. Clara instinctively grabbed onto his shirt and placed her head on top of his left heart. The duvet covered all of her body, right up until it reached her chin, and the Doctor securely tucked it around her to make sure she was warm enough. Clara was hugging him as if he was her favourite teddy bear who she couldn't sleep without.

The Doctor smiled as he stared down at the top of her head. He stroked her hair to let her sleep. Before her eyes fully closed, they flitted up to the Doctor's face and his navy blue bowtie, appreciating him for all he was. She loved how his eyes were wholesome and concerned, she loved how his hair had that cute little flick, and she loved how his lips pulled down into a curious frown as he stared at her. And the chin. The chin was completely different topic altogether.

"Doctor?" she muttered. Her eyes were now closed and her mind was hazy with oncoming sleep, but she still had a few questions roaming around in her subconscious. "Why do you care so much?"

She could hear by his tone that he was surprised. "What?"

"No one else would do this. For me. Take care o' me." Clara yawned, her words becoming more slurred with each syllable. "You jus' care _so_ much."

"Says the person who sacrificed herself for me over a thousand times," the Doctor retorted.

"No, but… before that. From the – the very moment we met. No one's cared tha' much since… well, since…"

Clara trailed off, not able to finish. The Doctor knew what she meant. He tightened his hold on her and whispered, "Clara, you're tired. You're safe. Just sleep."

She nodded, completely pressing up against him now in case someone tried to take him away. "Of course I am. 'M with you."

The Doctor frowned. A familiar pulse started to beat in his lip and his eyes felt too dry. The amount of faith she had in him, the amount of reassurance, physically ached in his chest. He blinked to free his vision from blurry tears, everything getting a little too overwhelming for him to concentrate. With Clara in his arms, snuggled up to his side, her heat warming his entire body, her faith and yet her fragility pouring into his soul, the Doctor thought back to a time he had found himself so _attached_ to someone. That's what was happening to him now, after all. He was attached to Clara. Firmly attached.

If he was being honest with himself, it wasn't just Clara who felt safe when she was with the Doctor. The Doctor also felt safe when he was with Clara.

Saving each other since the very start. From the time he started running.

"Thank you," Clara murmured in her sleep as she shifted in his arms.

The Doctor's lip wobbled as he pressed his cheek against the top of Clara's head. "No, Clara," he whispered into her hair. "Thank _you_."

* * *

**Note: I don't know if anyone else has experienced exhausted pre-sleep talk, when you're on the brink of falling asleep and words just pour out of your mouth, but it tends to be whatever is on your subconscious and always highly embarrassing. A review would make my day, so if you have the time, I would be very grateful! **


	5. The Beginning of an Adventure

**A/N: I really am trying to update faster, but this week and next I have to do two assignments for university. Once they are out of the way, I promise I'll try to update twice a week. Thank you so much for the reviews, I love hearing how you all feel about the stories and the characters. This is where the story changes slightly and becomes an actual story, so far it's been little snippets of the Doctor and Clara, but now (I'm merging this with another plot I've had for a while) an adventure actually begins. Since I don't have enough time to reply to everyone individually, I just want to say thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far: JustanotherDalek, Planet of the Deaf, AMysteriousWoman711, librarykate, themadmanhopes, Guest, Pir8grl, moviegal102, RandomVictorian, Guest, NoLongerAGuest, runyoucleverboy-remember, xxBadWolf, Tera Gray, Guest, and Kosovaheartland. If you've reviewed more than once, you're doubly fantastic! Hope you enjoy. **

** Chapter Five: The Beginning of an Adventure**

The Doctor, some time unknown to him in the last few hours, must have dosed off cuddled up beside Clara in her bed. The next thing he could recall was his eyes blinking awake and feeling fully refreshed, even though he didn't need to sleep as often as humans and couldn't remember falling asleep in the first place. The next thing he was aware of was Clara. They were both lying down on their sides in the middle of Clara's bed, facing each other. The Doctor's face was merely inches from hers. Clara was lost in the Doctor's arms as they were wrapped protectively around her, and her small body was pressed against his chest, her arms pulled up and resting under her head. It was very intimate and for once, the Doctor found himself not becoming worryingly embarrassed. Instead a smile tugged at his lips as he stared into Clara's face, observing details he hadn't been able to see before; faint freckles shadowing her skin, something that no one would notice unless they were looking at her underneath a microscope. There was a soft hairline scar underneath the left corner of her right eye too – probably from a childhood accident judging by how it was barely distinguishable against the tone of her skin colour.

It was weird looking at someone you knew like the back of your hand this close up. It was like looking into a fraction of their soul. They looked like a completely different person. He could count every one of Clara's eyelashes and describe the very creases on her lips.

He was so absorbed in recording every finer detail on her previous details that he failed to notice Clara's eyelids slowly open. Her eyes took a while to focus to the Doctor's face, and even though she was surprised at their intimacy, she didn't complain nor let it show. She watched him, silently, for a moment as his gaze focused on her nose before interrupting his thoughts.

"So, what brings you here?"

The Doctor's eyes immediately flicked up to her gaze, like he was just caught in a dishonourable act.

She gave an amused frown at his anxiousness. "What were you staring at?"

There was a moment of unsure awkwardness as he tried to decide whether or not to tell the truth of brush it off. He ended up taking a completely different approach and raised his eyebrows in an almost challenging, flirty manner. "You."

It was only one word, but the impact and the force behind it sent a shiver down Clara's spine. He said it as if it was the best compliment he could give her. She didn't know when she decided to stare at his lips, yet she found herself gazing at their structure and shape.

That was when Clara sat up straight like she had been electrocuted. What was getting into her? Were these thoughts about the Doctor a side effect from Trenzalore or had they been hanging around her subconscious for a while now?

She couldn't help but notice how he frowned when she pulled away. It made her feel terribly guilty.

"How are you? Did you sleep alright?" the Doctor asked as he pushed himself up beside her.

"Yeah," said Clara, actually surprised when she thought about it. "The best I've slept in ages, actually. Thanks, again."

The Doctor chuckled. "Yeah, I thought you would. The shield I placed in your mind made your body fall into a deep sleep so it could build itself up nice and strong."

"So no more memories of the echoes?"

"No more memories of the echoes."

Clara smiled and nudged his arm. He glanced at her, grinning widely of course, while one of his free hands brushed his luscious thick hair which was sticking up all over the place. In a tentative voice, a little too high for it to be casual, he asked, "So you don't remember our… conversation last night?"

Alarm bells started to ring in Clara's mind and echoed right down to her heartbeat in her chest. Matching his high pitch, she questioned, "Conversation?"

"Yeah, you know…" he trailed off, not knowing what to say. "Well, it wasn't really a conversation. More like you were mumbling because you were really tired."

"And what did I say?" Clara asked with a slight undertone threat in her voice.

The Doctor's eyes widened and he swiftly looked away. "What were you afraid to say?"

"I asked first!" she objected.

He smirked, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "Yeah well, I'm the Doctor. That trumps every card you have."

The pillow that connected with his face seemed to disagree. He heard Clara giggle as she hit him with it but quickly apologise as his head collided with the headboard. Small stars twirled in front of his vision and a scowl set on his lips – even though he was more amused than annoyed. He could never tell her that. She might continue to throw pillows at him.

"You're very strong for something so small!"

He made a big deal of massaging his own head, hoping against reason that Clara would comfort him.

"Oh, grow up you big baby. I hit you with a pillow not with a brick, stop overreacting."

Manning up, the Doctor started to fix his hair again. As his fingers brushed through the mess he paused before answering the next question ready on his lips. Should he tempt Clara with another adventure in the TARDIS? Should he risk it? The events of yesterday were still fresh in his mind despite him fixing the original problem. He was sure that if they did accidentally land on a planet they had both visited before that Clara would not be haunted by memories. What was the alternative? Wrapping her up in cotton wool and never letting her leave? Clara would never allow that to begin with, no matter how much it pained him to think of her put into a position of danger. Especially since that danger is him. Always has been and always will.

"What do you want to do today?" he asked instead, risking her a curious sideways glance.

She stopped to think. Slightly unsure, she pondered, "If we were to go somewhere… I wouldn't…?"

"No! Oh, no! You'd be fine," the Doctor reassured enthusiastically.

"Well then, let's go somewhere familiar. Earth. Not necessarily home but –" as soon as Clara said it, she realised she didn't really know what home was anymore. "Somewhere close yet interesting."

The Doctor's eyes narrowed as he tried to think of the perfect place. Just to be safe, he wanted to make sure it was somewhere he'd never visited before. He was positive the shield in Clara's mind could withstand probably anything but he was always prepared to take insurance when it came to Clara.

"How about Ireland in the 1920s?" he suggested. "Messy timelines in Ireland during the 1920s, full of change and shifts in power. Only one of the reasons I haven't visited during that decade. As you said, it's close to home but interesting."

Clara pulled away the duvet, her familiar bouncy energy well and truly returned. She climbed over the Doctor to reach the edge of the bed and hopped off. He blushed as her limbs skimmed over him, disguising the soft pink on his cheeks by scratching the side of his face.

"Okay. Let me get ready. I'll see you in about twenty minutes. Console room." She disappeared into the bathroom, and just before shutting the door, said, "Be there."

The Doctor smiled. Right after the door closed, he shouted right back, "It's a date!"

As soon as he said it he immediately regretted it. Wincing, the Doctor peeked at the bathroom door slowly opening. Clara was standing at the threshold leaning against the frame, her eyebrows raised and wearing a wide smirk.

"Is it?"

"No! No, of course not," he corrected quickly. He shooed her away. "Get in!"

Chewing her lip triumphantly Clara closed the bathroom door again. The Doctor hit the palm of his right hand against his forehead repeatedly, punishing himself for his stupidity. He got to his feet and cast another look towards the bathroom door. Shaking his head, the Doctor trudged out of the room, feeling considerably lighter than the day before.

* * *

When Clara appeared in the console room exactly twenty-two minutes later (not like the Doctor was counting or anything) she was dressed in a cute red dress detailed with small white songbirds matched with a thin black cardigan. Her hair was loosely down around her shoulders with one side pulled back in a sparkly black hairpin. The Doctor pretended not to notice her and kept his gaze fixed on the bundle of wires around his feet. She bounced over to him, joining him on the floor. The Doctor couldn't help but tuck the strand of hair clipped in her hairpin behind her ear.

"The coordinates are set," the Doctor informed her. "All we need to do is press the button."

"What button?"

The Doctor jumped to his feet. Clara copied. He gestured at one button, then another, then three more until Clara was left at one side of the central panel, sprawled out trying to reach them all.

"_One_ button?"

"Slight under-exaggeration," he joked, winking at her from across the central beam. He flicked off the brakes and slammed on the accelerator. "Geronimo!"

The ground underneath them jerked and span out of control. Clara desperately clung onto the control panel, shrieking as she was almost thrown onto the metal panel behind her. Was it just her imagination, or was the TARDIS purposefully shaking more on her side?

After the rocky ride, Clara breathed out a sigh of relief. Catching the Doctor's eye, they raced each other to the door, seeing who would reach it first. Giggling, Clara threw open the TARDIS door and stepped outside, the Doctor not far behind.

"Um, Doctor?"

He was standing directly behind her, one hand still hovering on the door. His large grin was slowly falling off his face and turning to disappointed confusion.

"This isn't Ireland," Clara told him, as if he hadn't noticed.

He stuck out his tongue and tasted the air. He shook his head and grabbed Clara's hand. "No. Definitely doesn't taste like Ireland. Actually, doesn't look like Ireland either. And it's not raining… Clara, this isn't Ireland."

* * *

**Note: The next chapter is where it all kicks off - I'm really excited to write it. Reviews would make my week! **


	6. Wanted Alive

** A/N: I hope you like this chapter as much as I do! And I hope is surprises you as much as I intended it to! Enjoy!**

** Chapter Six: Wanted Alive**

This definitely wasn't Ireland. Unless Ireland was full of aliens and its temperature firmly below zero degrees since the last time Clara had visited Earth. It was the Doctor's reaction, a definite confirmation, which told her this was an alien planet. How could the TARDIS get Ireland wrong? This wasn't even a small mistake, like a wrong year or someplace that sounded like Ireland – Iceland, maybe – this was a whole planet, different time zone and probably completely different galaxy away from being Ireland.

Clara couldn't help but smile.

Wherever they were, it was a mixture of naturalistic and mechanical environmental schemes. It reminded Clara faintly of Akhaten. The TARDIS had landed outside tall black iron bars. Through the bars she could see a market area in the centre of a large town. The buildings were made out of rough granite stone, no glass in the windows, but quizzical technology scattered unevenly around the landscape. Lampposts were situated on every street corner and looked like a single iron rod with a sharp point, from which a flame hovered at the spout. Some stalls in the market were selling precious stones and gemstones, clothing and materials, while others showed off big slabs of engines, and other technical devices. It was as if someone had a scrapbook of traditional way of living and another person had come along, sticking in pictures of modern technology here and there. It was cluttered and out of place, but the people (the majority of which were humans) seemed to be perfectly suited to it.

"Oh!" breathed out the Doctor in realisation. "This is Asterix XII. I've been here before, not so long ago. They had a problem with the government and I tried to help. It was between the old suppressive government of the dictator President Pareux, and the new revolutionary government, the Revolutionites. I helped form the Revolutionites. I didn't realise it would start a very combative war. The Revolutionites won after a few secretive operations from within Pareux's base. They set up something very similar to a democracy. The last I heard was that it was going strong."

Clara faltered for a moment. She watched the people behind the iron bars going about their everyday business. Her mind was clear, crystal clear, and squeaky clean after the Doctor's meddling, so she didn't have a problem staying here and exploring. What was confusing her, however, was _why_ they were here and not in Ireland. It was amusing, yes, but didn't quite make sense.

"Are we supposed to be here?" she asked. "Did the TARDIS land here on purpose?"

The Doctor paused. He considered, "Yes, that is an option. Or, something pulled her off course. In which case, this could be dangerous." He glanced at her, sideways, cautious like she was fragile and breakable. "Feeling okay? We can turn back."

"I'm fine," she agreed. "Let's have a look around."

He took her hand without even thinking about it. They walked hand in hand through the gates and into the town, each step laced with caution. The Doctor was trying to keep to the edges of the market so he could observe his surroundings and pick up on anything unusual. Hardly anyone spared them a glance as they went about their business. He didn't know why, but something was telling the Doctor to be careful and not to jump straight into the action like he normally did. More than likely it was because of Clara and the thought of anything happening to her pained him more than it had ever before. Which was doubly the amount.

Some of the people standing at their stalls – humans and aliens alike – seemed to be more subdued than the Doctor remembered. Maybe they were just comfortable now considering they were no longer living in a warzone? Perhaps there was no need for such a strong community anymore? The Doctor was about to tell Clara that it was safe to investigate when a loud, shrill, blowing of the trumpets sounded from somewhere above them.

Rather instinctively, every single person in the entire surrounding area started to move towards the open space, similar to a courtyard, in the centre of the town. Even the stall-owners abandoned their things to follow the crowd. Clara glanced curiously at the Doctor, who didn't hesitate to return the expression. She tugged on the Doctor's hand and stepped forward; wanting to see what was happening, but the Doctor pulled her back.

"We don't know what's happening, Clara. Better lie low for now," he whispered in her ear. Clara's gaze narrowed by a fraction; suspicious of his caution. He'd never been this cautious before, why play it safe now? She heeded his suggestion and stayed with him in the shadows, standing on her tiptoes to catch a peek.

From where they were standing, the Doctor could see people starting to appear on a large balcony attached to one of the larger buildings overlooking the centre of the town. Behind them, on a giant screen, appeared a large golden symbol on a pure black flag. The symbol was circular; it had an arrow piercing it through the centre and a highly advanced technological gun overlapping it.

Clara could feel the Doctor's hand grip hers tighter. Worried, she turned her attention to him instead of the scene. His eyes were wide, as if he was shocked or frightened, and his mouth was slightly open. Just as she was about to ask, the words tumbled out of his mouth.

"But, Clara, that's the flag of President Pareux – the old government. No, they couldn't – where are the Revolutionites? What's happened to them?"

Clara had no answers for him. "Do you think this Pareux guy started another war? How else could he be back in power?"

The Doctor looked at her, his hazel eyes welling up with concern. "Something like that has happened. This is dangerous. Everyone here is in danger. I don't know what to do."

It was his last confession that stirred a large amount of concern in Clara's chest.

But it was the next turn in events which shocked her to the very core.

It wasn't President Pareux who stepped up to the podium on the balcony. No, she was certain it couldn't be him. The person who did stand up to represent Pareux's government was a face she recognised. A face that still haunted her dreams and forever would. He was the reason behind her nervous shaking and her confused state of mind. He was the reason why she would never be the same again, no matter how much the Doctor helped her.

It was the Great Intelligence.

Clara let go of the Doctor's hand and clutched onto his arm for support. Her head was light and dizzy. The initial shock and fear were still pouring over her, unending, unforgiving and absolutely terrifying. "Doctor," she squeaked, hoping he was able to understand the seriousness of this situation and in someway help her. But she couldn't make out his expression as he pulled her into his arms and frantically spilled words of concern because her eyes were unfocused and flickering.

There was one Doctor. One Clara. And one Great Intelligence.

It was easy to see where this was going.

"Clara. Clara, listen to me. We're getting out of here. I'm getting you out, okay?" His stomach was twisting at the expression of horror on her face. She was sent into a state of shock. "_Clara!_"

She physically shook her head to clear it. With shaky hands she rubbed her eyes and refocused her attention on the Doctor. She breathed in a great breath to calm her nerves. It took all she had in her to remain brave and steady. Clara had floundered for a moment, yes – but she wouldn't do it again. No matter how much that man petrified her, there was no way he was going to take her strength away as well. Besides, she knew beyond a doubt that the Doctor would do everything he could to protect her. If she just held onto that knowledge, it could get her through anything. Even facing her new biggest fear.

"We're leaving. _Now_," the Doctor insisted. He paused, watching how she was gradually coming around from the shock.

At the exact moment they were about to turn back the way they came, the Great Intelligence began to speak. The Doctor glanced up at him curiously for a second, desperate for the tiniest bit of knowledge as to what happened here.

"We have an announcement," the Great Intelligence started, his voice cold and hard, just how the Doctor remembered. He felt Clara shiver beside him. "As you know, a few months ago the Revolutionities fell. President Pareux was deemed unfit to rule and I was voted to be his replacement. But that, by no manner, means the war is over. We have yet to find some Revolutionities who fled after the war. They threaten our supremacy. Traitors of the state managed to escape without justice. These people need to be found. These people need to be brought to justice for their careless actions."

The Doctor edged towards the gates, Clara in tow. He continued to listen.

"There is one person in particular we are searching for. A double agent. She betrayed all of us, and especially, her government. We all thought she was on our side, loyal to our cause. Just before her disappearance we realised she was actually working for the Revolutionites. Spying on us within our own camp and reporting back to the enemy with every move we made. A traitor, a liar and a destroyer of our integrity. She must pay for betraying our loyalty.

"But first she must be found. We have good reason to believe she has important information we need about the location of the surviving Revolutionites. This information in invaluable. This town, this planet will not be a safe place until we have that information."

BANG! SLAM!

The Doctor spun around, his arm protectively pulling Clara into his side. The gates in front of them had slammed closed, locked tight, no way around it. The same happened to the gates on the other side of the town. The iron bars which travelled all around the town illuminated a bright brilliant blue.

"An electrical seal," the Doctor hissed, his tone raised and frantic. "They've locked us in!"

Yelps of confusion and cries of outrage sounded from the crowd below the balcony. A small smile played on the Great Intelligences' lips. "This town was the last location she was spotted by an eyewitness!" he bellowed above the civilians and their out roar. "Therefore, this town is in lockdown until she is found!"

The Doctor was distracted now. He was barely listening to a word that was being said. His eyes were staring at his lonely TARDIS, only a few metres on the other side of the tall iron gates. Tantalisingly close yet so far away.

His fear reached another peak on the scale as he heard the cloister bells ringing from inside, combined with a faint red flashing light he could barely see through the small window panes. His hearts lurched.

"If you want your town back to normal, then you must find this girl."

Clara slowly turned around. She squinted to get a better look. The screen behind Simeon's head changed from the black symbolic flag of the old government to a picture of a girl. She was young and pretty. She had long dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Kind brown eyes. A certain mischievous glitter glinted in them, something Clara knew only too well.

A slogan was printed underneath the image – WANTED: ALIVE.

Suddenly the world seemed slow and tired. Clara had to blink a few times to confirm she had seen correctly. She felt strangely numb, as if she was missing her emotions. It was taking a long time for her reactions to begin.

Her cold hand found the Doctor's again. She couldn't remember letting it go. He was still facing the iron bars, probably thinking of some brilliant plan of how to escape.

"Doctor," she whispered. Her voice was small, uncertain.

There must've been something in her tone, however, that made the Doctor spin around. His eyes landed on the image without any instruction. He stood there, frozen, his eyes wide with confusion.

The Great Intelligence only started to speak again when the crowd had quietened down. "This," he said, "is Agent Oswin. We want her _alive_. Anyone found helping her, anyone found in her association will be dealt with accordingly. Your mission is to find her and bring her to me. If, within five days, you have failed to do so, there will be consequences. For all of you."

As the announcement was dismissed and the Great Intelligence returned from wherever he came, the crowd started to disperse. But the haunting image still remained for everyone to see. The only thing that was keeping Clara locked onto reality was the Doctor's hand.

"Doctor…" Clara started, her heart starting to regain speed. "That's me. They want me. I'm Agent Oswin."

It was true. It was Clara's face on the big screen, down to the very last detail.

For the Doctor, that made things simple. Very simple. His eyes darted from the illuminated iron bars to the crowds starting to head their way. In a few moments Clara was going to be recognised. They couldn't hide in the shadows forever.

"Stay by my side and don't look back," the Doctor said, at once sent into action mode. "I'm going to get you out of here, Clara, if it's the last thing I do. I promise, Clara. I promise."

* * *

** Note: Happy Birthday, Doctor Who! Have a brilliant Doctor Who day everyone! Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and a review would make this day even better. 23****rd**** November 2013. **


	7. An Ally Within The Enemy

** A/N: This is where everything starts to get highly dramatic, full of suspense, but all mixed together with a little fluff. Hope you enjoy!**

** Chapter Seven: An Ally Within The Enemy**

The Doctor was in a state of panic. His mind was whirling, spinning at thousand miles a minute, throwing him off course and failing to rest on one single conclusion. They were locked in here. The TARDIS was outside the gates. An electrical field separated them. These people, native to the planet, would do anything to free their town. What would happen after the five days? Hundreds of people, all looking for the same person, all determined – all posing a threat to Clara. His Clara. That made each and every one of them an enemy.

He couldn't quite comprehend how this was making him feel. His figurative heart was shattering in his chest and the fragments were cutting through his organs until his insides were liquid fear. If anything happened to Clara…

It was safe to say he was firmly attached to the impossible girl. _Too_ attached. This could only end badly. Right now, if anyone asked him his greatest fear, he wouldn't even hesitate to respond. It was losing her. All over again.

As for Clara, the fear was just starting to sink in. She kept her head down and followed the Doctor, just as she was instructed, and hoping against hope that he was thinking up a plan, an escape route. She trusted him, one hundred per cent, to the ends of the Earth and back around the sun, if he wanted. So, instead of focusing on the negative and the fact her life is in terrible danger, she placed all of her strength on the Doctor. The person who she knew would fight to keep her safe.

As they squeezed past two market stalls, the Doctor snatched up a long hooded cloak on display. He briefly stopped and draped it around Clara's shoulders, pulled it tightly around her and flipped up the hood. Clara's face was immediately shadowed, the only area visible around her lips and chin. The cloak was too long, however, for her short body. It gathered on the floor around her feet.

"It'll do," the Doctor muttered, more to himself than to her.

Then they were off again, keeping to the shadows. The town was in a state of flurry; people rushing home to their families to check if they were okay, stall-holders returning to their produce to check if anything had been stolen, and other people, still gathered in the middle of the courtyard, shouting out loudly at unknown forces on the injustice of the situation. To the Doctor, it was a riot waiting to happen.

The Doctor knew what Simeon, the Great Intelligence, was trying to do. He wanted people's anger to turn towards Agent Oswin, hostility to be the main emotion, so that people were joined together, united for the old government, fighting to get their town back. The enemy would no longer be them, but her.

That was not going to happen.

Lost in his own thoughts, the Doctor didn't even notice a fellow hooded figure stalking them in the shadows. Until he came too close.

"Doctor," Clara whispered. She nodded towards the mysterious man following their footsteps.

The Doctor stopped walking. He pressed his fingers to his lips in a silent gesture. Clara nodded and stayed beside him. The figure hurried forwards, his own cloak billowing behind him in the wind. He was only a metre away when the Doctor pointed his sonic screwdriver at the man's chest, his eyes fierce and his voice low and growling.

"Don't come any closer, I'm warning you!"

He raised his hands in a small surrender. When he spoke, his tone was measured, paced, as if every word was spoken with care. "Listen, I don't mean any harm, sir. I just noticed you back there – you, well…" taking a deep breath, the man fired out, "_It takes a great man to fight for peace. A committed man to fight for love. But an even braver man to fight for both, without fighting at all._"

Clara saw the Doctor's eyes widen. He glanced around, seeing if anyone was looking or overhearing this conversation. "Hartley?" he asked.

The man pulled away a part of his cloak to reveal a lavish silver ring, decorated with red gemstones. The Doctor slowly dropped his sonic screwdriver, leaving it hanging in his hand by his side. He leaned in closer.

"But how did you know?"

The man chuckled without humour. "I saw you arrive. I saw you in the shadows. You practically ran at the first mention of Pareux. That fear too, in your eyes – the dread. It only comes from a threat you recognise. I reckon your cloaked friend has something to hide as well."

Clara shuffled, caution and fear making her fingertips tingle. The Doctor glanced at her and then back to the stranger. "Can you help us?"

"I intend to do that, to everyone I can." He breathed out a relieved sigh. "I'm just glad to find someone on the same side. I've been feeling lonely."

As he went to turn away, the Doctor grabbed his arm to stop him. "I'm trusting you. Do you hear? I'm putting my trust in your hands. You don't want to betray it. I will do everything and anything to protect her" – the Doctor pointed at Clara – "do you understand?"

The Doctor was expecting an argument. A comment of disagreement, perhaps even an objection. He received none.

"I understand. I was like that with someone once," the hooded man said, a sudden vulnerability hidden in his voice. He waited until the Doctor cautiously let go of his arm, before leading the way to somewhere unknown.

Clara wasn't sure what to think. The Doctor kept a distance between them so he could keep an eye on where this man was taking them. They were scooting around the edges of the town, careful to avoid walking too close to the iron bars. It was when they reached a group of granite houses – now well and truly into the living area of the town – that Clara decided to break the silence with an important question.

"Can we trust him?"

The Doctor leaned into her, his arm loosely draping around her shoulders. In her ear, he whispered, "That quote he said… I said it to Hartley, the leader of the revolution, and she adopted it as her secret slogan. It was used as code between the Revolutionites to prove you were one of them. The ring he was wearing too – that was appointed personally by Hartley herself. He must be pretty important."

"And trapped just like us."

A low echo of guilt clouded the Doctor's mind. He hated not being able to see Clara's expression under that hood, or stare into her eyes to know exactly what she was thinking. Humour was what was needed here, he decided. Something to convince her he wasn't _too_ worried. "Oh, we're not trapped, Clara. Just momentarily stuck until I think of how to escape."

He liked to believe she was smiling, but he couldn't be certain.

The stranger led them into an old hut at the very back of the town. The houses around here seemed to be deserted or hostile to visitors. Inside the hut was a trapdoor, and as their new ally pulled it open, he stood up and dropped his hood, finally revealing his identity.

"Letting a hooded stranger help you is one thing, but following them down a trapdoor with their face still covered just seems dodgy," he joked, his eyes glittering with mischief.

Clara was pleasantly surprised at his appearance. She was expecting an old man, judging by how he held himself, hunched over, and his voice tired and aged. He put on a good act. As soon as he dropped his hood, he stood up tall and proud. He was in his late twenties, early thirties, with wavy brown hair reaching the bottom of his neck and stubble spread across his chin. He had high cheekbones and ice blue eyes with a broad chest, but was still slim enough to show he was very malnourished.

"I'm Joshua," he introduced, giving a little bow.

The Doctor smiled. "I'm the Doctor, and this –" the Doctor cut himself off. "Is my friend."

Joshua sniggered and raised his eyebrows. "Alright, I understand. We don't fully trust each other yet. As long as your friend isn't going to run off to President Simeon, I have no objection. Secrets are the only things keeping us safe right now."

"Oh, don't worry," he Doctor said darkly. "That is definitely never going to happen."

Joshua gestured for the Doctor and Clara to step down through the trapdoor first, so he could lock it after them. The Doctor held onto Clara's hand as he helped her down the steep stairs, his free hand hanging onto the rough wall so both of them wouldn't fall. As Joshua fumbled with the key to the lock, the Doctor decided that trust couldn't be built on silence, and right now, trust was all they had.

"Joshua. Joshy – Josh. Mind if I call you Josh?"

The man had his back turned so neither party could see his face, but Clara could tell by his tone that he was frowning. "You can if you want," he began, nonchalantly, "but the last person who used to call me Josh is dead. Take that as you will – it probably means nothing."

The Doctor glanced towards Clara, his nose scrunched up awkwardly. "Right, um, sorry about that. Maybe I'll just stick to Joshua, then. So, tell me Joshua, why are you here? Why are you separated from the other Revolutionites?"

"All in good time," he answered, turning around. He was now smiling. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions. As do I, about you two. For instance, how you arrived in that big blue box, looking how you do."

"Well…" the Doctor started, trailing off. He held onto Clara's shoulder as they took one step down the staircase at a time.

Joshua shook his head as he walked behind them, shrugging off his cloak. "No, I know _how_, Doctor. Especially since you confirmed you are, in fact, the Doctor. I was very close to Hartley, just as you were. She told me of the man who guided her in the revolution. How he arrived in a big blue box he called the TARDIS. That's why I started following you back in the town. What I was asking, however, is how you can look like _that_? Hartley said you had short black hair, ancient blue eyes and wore a battered black leather jacket. A warrior, she said. Not someone who looks the same age as me."

The Doctor smiled, faintly. "Ah, Hartley still telling stories about me, is she?"

"She used to, all the time."

"And not anymore?"

"Not since she died, no. But I know she would if she could."

The Doctor stopped, abruptly, almost knocking Clara down the last step. He turned to face Joshua, whose eyes had changed to large and sad, and a small crease forming in between his eyebrows. The Doctor gaped for a few moments, unsure of what to say.

"How, Joshua? When?"

"Murdered," Joshua answered simply. "That's how another war began. Pareux seized his chance once he knew Hartley was out of the way. Without a leader, we panicked. We were unorganised. I was with her when she died, Doctor. She mentioned you_. Find him_, she said. _If you see him, tell him. Let him help._ I didn't think I ever would."

A large circular open space, lit with small flickering lamps met them at the foot of the stairs. This was obviously where Joshua had been staying recently. Blankets and a few pillows rested in the corner, a pile of food in the other and different gadgets scattered across the floor. It wasn't much, but it was definitely safe.

The Doctor was torn with guilt. He wanted to help Joshua – he needed to help him, if he was being honest with himself. After all, he was partly responsible. But now that he knew Hartley was gone and Clara was in such danger, how could he stay? How could he help when it could be at the expense of Clara?

Joshua pulled over a few blankets for them all to sit on. There was a short moment of awkward silence, to which Joshua emitted a loud sigh.

"I suppose you want to know what's happened since you were last here, Doctor. Despite how you look so different." Joshua brushed his hair out of his eyes, and started, "It all began a year after the last war…"

* * *

** Note: Lots more Whouffle moments in the next chapter. Thank you so much for all of you who reviewed last time. If everyone gives lots of reviews, I'll upload the next chapter on Sunday or Monday! **


	8. Explaining the Impossible

** A/N: This chapter is very speech heavy because the main details of the back story are revealed. Hope you enjoy, it's a bit longer than usual!**

** Chapter Eight: Explaining the Impossible**

The Doctor listened as Joshua told him the short version of everything. Clara's arm was brushing against his own and he could tell from their close proximity how anxious she was.

"Rumours started going around that Pareux had new allies. Flown over from a different planet. Hartley was keeping cautious. She had look-outs in every town, just to make sure Pareux wasn't up to anything. He was, though, and he was very good at it this time. Simeon was his new ally, and with his greater intelligence Hartley never stood a chance." Joshua paused, his eyes drifting over to the lamplight. "She followed your orders from before, down to the very last detail. Just before she died, she started appointing people new roles. Me and my friend, we were her personal agents. We didn't realise how significant that role would be. In a rather dramatic turn of events, a small gang of Pareux's people terrorised our main camp – they stole everything that was important to us that day. Documents containing our deepest secrets, some even involving you, Doctor. Hartley was unarmed, just how she preferred, and protected the scrolls with her life. We were too late when we reached her. As I said before, that's when she mentioned you. My friend and I, we vowed to keep you safe, and to somehow find you. Without the documents we stood no chance. Her deputy, Vingols –"

The Doctor scoffed and interrupted. "Vingols! I knew Vingols. Impatient, impulsive and rebellious. I was always torn halfway between admiring him and hating him."

Joshua nodded, as if he was agreeing to the Doctor's feelings towards the man. "Vingols decided there was nothing else for it. Pareux had an army and they wouldn't hesitate to use force. So, we responded. We did just as Hartley asked – we were fighting to win back the scrolls."

The Doctor knew when he left Asterix XII that Vingols was the only person Hartley would see fit for the job. He approved, to a certain extent, because he knew deep down that if it ever came to it, Vingols wouldn't hesitate to fight back. The Doctor never thought, however, that the peace he set up would be destroyed so quickly.

Clara leaned into the Doctor, whispering in a barely audible mutter, "But why are the scrolls so important?"

The Doctor looked back up at Joshua, a new spark of curiosity raised by Clara's question. "Why are the documents so important, Joshua?"

Joshua glanced up at him, faint amusement shadowing his features.

"You helped us revolutionise our technology, Doctor. But Hartley listened to every word you said – in the early stages of the modern Renaissance, the transition between the new age of technology and standard living, you had to be careful who got their hands on the plans. Hartley recorded all the information you gave her and had plans to gradually change over from standard living to a technological environment. Otherwise, as technology increased, so would weapons. That was the last thing she wanted. All of these documents were signed by her, and, so future generations would know, she described how you helped with this revolution. Meaning, not only did our enemy have instructions that could be used against us, but they also had information on you. Two thoughts Hartley couldn't stand – not since you helped us on our way to freedom."

"And so what happened?"

There was a shift deep within Joshua. An inner turmoil bursting to escape, yet he did his best to keep it under wraps. He blinked a few times and one of his hands travelled across his stubble before resting on the side of his cheek.

"Pareux won with the help of Simeon. They killed every Revolutionite they could find. We split up into groups, small groups, hidden in each town. Monitoring the situation and reporting back to Vingols. But Vingols had other plans as well." There was a break. Joshua shuffled closer, as if he was telling a secret at a sleepover. "My friend and I were given special orders directly from Hartley and approved by Vingols. We were to become double agents inside Pareux's new government. Slowly build up a good reputation, report back to Vingols, until they let us into their darkest secrets so we could take them down from the inside. Only, things went wrong."

Joshua's chin started to crumple and he looked away as if he was ashamed. Clara watched him carefully, her heart breaking a little for him. What happened next obviously scarred him, more than he was even letting himself realise. His ice blue eyes stared at the floor, glaring at it as if it had personally insulted him.

"I was found out halfway through the operation. I had to flee. Luckily, Vingols managed to get me out just in time. But my friend was still in there, and we all knew it was a matter of time before they found out she wasn't a team player as well. She kept up a good act. Until…"

The Doctor's figurative heart sank. He could tell where this was going. His hand ghosted along Clara's arm up to her hand. He squeezed it tight until she responded. Still absorbed in the story, the Doctor prompted, "Until?"

Joshua met his gaze, fighting the urge to look away. This was his time for a confession; this was his time to finally share his experience, his feelings with someone. He had a willing audience, from which he could only hope to get something of a shred of forgiveness from.

"She found out the location of the scrolls. She reported back to Vingols, but he insisted they needed more men before storming the place," he explained, his tone cold and struggling to remain calm. "So, she acted alone. Late at night she broke into the lair and stole the most important documents. The ones Hartley was most concerned about – containing information on you, Doctor, and potentially harmful technology. She managed to just make it out of the building before they noticed. She put up a chase. But…"

The Doctor winced and briefly closed his eyes. Yes, he could guess the next part. As if it was written down on paper.

"Joshua?" he urged.

"It was Agent Oswin," Joshua burst out, unable to contain his emotion anymore. His eyes glazed over with tears, but he wouldn't allow them to fall. "The one they want, the one they're searching for. She was my friend. Well, the word friend doesn't even begin to explain our relationship. She was wonderful. Clara Oswald was her real name."

He heard Clara give an audible gasp from beside him. Her head ducked down underneath her hood and her hand started to shake while holding the Doctor's. He pulled her closer, draping a tight arm around her shoulders in an attempt to give her comfort. He needed to hear the ending of this story.

"Where is she, Joshua? Is she here?" the Doctor asked, but it sounded more like a desperate cry of help.

"No," Joshua snapped, suddenly angry. "She's dead. The last person to call me Josh. A large part of me died with her."

A strange, numb disappointment clung to the Doctor's chest. He was expecting it, he knew thousands of different Clara's were dying for him all throughout the universe, but coming face to face with the consequences of one… Agent Oswin, Joshua's best friend, had died saving the scrolls which in turn saved him from the hands of Simeon, the Great Intelligence, and President Pareux. It was a never ending circle. He felt like neither of them could escape.

He still had questions. Important questions, ones which affected _his_ Clara. The one they couldn't take away from him. "What? Then why are they searching for her?"

"They don't know," Joshua answered simply, with a small shrug. "They think she's disappeared along with the documents, on her way back to Vingols any moment. Maybe it's better that she's not here, as much as it pains me to say it. If she was here, right now… I wouldn't like to be in her shoes if they found her, put it that way."

There was a short moment of silence, in which each individual person let the news sink in, each person thinking on the same story from a different perspective. Joshua from personal, heartbreak, the Doctor with dread and determination tainted with an overwhelming amount of guilt. And Clara, the person who should be scared at facing the same end, wrapped up in her own soft self-admiration for a life she didn't lead, because after all – she _had_ saved the Doctor. It hadn't been for nothing.

Therefore, in a small, quiet voice, she asked Joshua, "How did she die?"

For the first time, Joshua properly stared at her. His gaze narrowed ever-so-slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of the person underneath the cloak.

"Stray bullet when they were chasing her," Joshua told her, still curious. "I found her just in time. I brought her here. Too much blood lost, not enough medical equipment… I contacted Vingols, but of course, what could he do? He just apologised and thanked her for getting most of the documents back. We burnt the documents together and I did my best. But she died in my arms."

The Doctor's eyes flashed. The image was too vivid in his mind – only instead of Joshua, he was holding Clara. _His_ Clara, dressed exactly as she is now. It made him shiver, so much so that he was drawn towards an insecure sympathy for the man in front of him. He seemed like a good man (perhaps a little bit too attached to a Clara he didn't know) and no one deserved to lose her. He couldn't comprehend how that felt.

"I'm sorry," he managed to say, in between the overwhelming emotions he was experiencing.

"Yeah," Joshua responded with another shrug, turning around just in time for the first tear to fall.

Only it was far from the first tear. It was just different to cry freely in front of company. He still had his pride left.

Clara readjusted her hood and redirected the Doctor's line of vision so that he could read her expression. He gave one slow nod and turned back to Joshua, who was now standing beside one of the lamps. This wasn't going to be straightforward to explain.

"Joshua, listen to me. There's something I – something we need to tell you. It won't be easy to hear."

The sad man glanced over, a defeated smile resting on his face. "Really? Well, make a good job of it because lately… I'd believe anything."

The Doctor gripped harder onto Clara's hand. "Clara," he agreed.

Joshua frowned and took a step back. "…Clara?"

Clara, the real Clara, the original, gradually lowered her hood. Strands of hair fell in front of her face and stood up at the back. She brushed them away quickly, directly meeting Joshua's hard stare. Her eyes were soft and brown as they caught the lamplight, slightly rounded as they peered up at him, holding that familiar shadow of fear she usually tried to hide. But she didn't break off his glare, as if she was challenging him to believe his eyes.

The girl in front of Joshua was exactly the same girl he had held in his arms as she uttered her last words. Down to the very last detail. The only thought, apart from initial shock, that ran through his mind was just how _beautiful_ she was. In the short space of losing her, had he really forgotten so quickly? Maybe it was because he never thought he'd have the chance to appreciate it again.

But then came the confusion. The renewed wave of sorrow. The blatant anger that this could be happening. _What_ was happening?

"I'm not Oswin," Clara said, breaking the silence.

"But you are!" Joshua shouted, arguing with his eyes. "How can you not be?"

The Doctor interrupted as he jumped to his feet. "Joshua, you need to listen –"

"No, no, no!" he yelled in response, brushing the Doctor away. He only had eyes for Clara. "You died!" he accused, as if it was all her fault.

Clara shook her head. Her eyes started to fill with tears. "No, that wasn't me. Well, it was. Just not _this_ me."

Joshua simply gaped. There was nothing else he could do. Clara stood up beside the Doctor, almost tripping up over her long cloak. This didn't help matters – now Joshua was focusing on how she was short like the Clara he knew too. There was only one question which sprang to his mind.

"Your arm," he started, edging forwards. This would make up his mind, this would be enough proof. "Your left arm. You – my Clara, she had a scar there. A permanent scar. I was with her when she got it in a confrontation during the first revolution."

Clara didn't look towards Joshua as she pushed away her sleeve to reveal clear, flawless skin on her left arm. She couldn't stand to see his disappointment. Instead, she looked at the Doctor, who was attempting to be encouraging, but she could see it in his eyes – he was just as scared as she was. The Doctor placed both of his hands on her shoulder and nodded to Joshua to sit back down with them. "Let us explain," the Doctor beseeched. "We'll tell you everything."

* * *

After the Doctor and Clara told Joshua the details of their latest dramatic adventure, he was oddly accepting that they were telling the truth. "Why would you make that stuff up?" he asked them, giving one of his solitary shrugs. "Besides, I can see it in your eyes, Clara – there's something there that seems different from… from my Clara."

"Your Clara was just as real as my Clara," said the Doctor, attempting to be comforting. "She was a real person with a real life of her own; she just originated from this Clara jumping in my timestream. To save me."

Clara smiled for the first time since the public announcement. She nudged the Doctor with her elbow, and teased, "_Your_ Clara?"

The Doctor immediately blushed. "Yes – no! Maybe just a little bit," he stuttered. "What I mean is, you're _my_ Clara, like I'm _your_ Doctor. You know, like because we're –"

Shaking her head, Clara interrupted. "Doctor," she advised, "shut up."

"Yes! Good idea. Very good idea." A brief moment of awkward silence, in which the Doctor shot Clara a sideways stare. Then, rather abruptly he asked, "Do you mind if I call you 'my' Clara?"

Aware that Joshua was staring at them in a mixture of awe and sadness, Clara warned politely, "Doctor!"

But the Doctor wasn't quite ready to let it go. She was his Clara and he saw no reason to deny it, just because Joshua was gazing at them with a hint of regret. If it was the other way around (which the Doctor was selfishly glad it wasn't) then he was sure Joshua would make a distinction too. Clara bristled beside him as she realised he was going to bring this up later. She met his gaze, her eyebrows raised, attempting to tell him silently to drop it. The Doctor huffed but refused to look away.

"Extraordinary," Joshua put in. "You are _exactly_ like her."

For some reason, this didn't sit well with the Doctor.

"Well, technically she can't be exactly like Oswin, because she was an echo, like a small –" Clara nudged him sharply in the ribs again. "But, yes, Joshua I can see what you mean," he corrected.

Joshua came to sit on the other side of Clara. He couldn't stop staring at her face, afraid that she would slip away from him again at any minute. He had a second chance and he wasn't going to blow it. "I've lost you once and I'm not going to lose you again."

The Doctor frowned, as if someone had just spray-painted the TARDIS a shade of pastel pink. "_That's my line_," he whispered, more to himself.

"This could be my chance to make it up to my Clara. To save the original," Joshua continued as if he wasn't interrupted.

As much as Clara felt sorry for Joshua and sympathised with him, she wanted to give him hope, but she didn't want to make things complicated. Delicately, she hedged, "Joshua, I'm not the Clara you knew. I'm not her. A part of her is in me somewhere, but we're not the same person."

"A part of her is enough for me. It'll fill the part of me that's been missing since I lost her." Joshua laughed and started to trace his stubble once more. "I'm not delusional, Clara. I know I can't live through you. Can't you see, though – this is my second chance. How many people get a second chance?"

His words sent a shiver down the Doctor's spine. He had a second chance saving Clara too – only from the opposite perspective of Joshua. The thought of Clara, manipulated and corrupted in that Dalek shell, and the thought of her falling off that cloud to the harsh snow below… It still made him wince and reach for her – just to confirm that she was still there.

Joshua gave one last lingering sigh before springing to his feet, a renewed energy in his step. "I'm not going to lie, Clara. You are in terrible danger. I'd say the most danger you've ever been in – until the Doctor told me of your story. We can't let Simeon anywhere near you. But we can't ignore his tyrannical government, either. We have to find a way to get you out of here and break Simeon's government at the same time."

Clara was smiling up at him, her eyes twinkling in a quiet _thank you_.

The Doctor pounced to his feet as well. He stood slightly in front of Joshua, trying to regain Clara's attention. "Exactly what I was going to say! Only it was going to be better. Much better." He scrunched his hands before flapping them about, reaching over to Clara to help her stand. "Now," he announced, "it's time for a plan."

* * *

**Note: Ah, I could write jealous Doctor all day. Reviews wouldn't make my day, or my week, they'd make my month! Remember, I don't know if you're enjoying this or not, or if there's anything you'd like to see without you dropping a message or review. I'll try to get the next chapter up by the middle of the week! **


	9. Unusual Distractions

** A/N: Flattery works on me, so all of your reviewing encouraged me to write faster! Another conversation heavy chapter, I hope you don't mind. The next few chapters will have a more equal balance, even leaning towards more description and narration. I just want to thank runyoucleverboy-remember for giving a wonderful idea which is written into this chapter. (I've changed it slightly, just for humour purposes) Just a little reminder that I can't reply to Guest reviews, and I would love to reply to you, so if you have an account please sign in. Reviews would be greatly appreciated, and if there's plenty, I'll be sure to update again in the next few days. Thank you, enjoy!**

** Chapter Nine: Unusual Distractions**

"What's the plan?" Joshua asked. He walked over to the food pile and grabbed three small bread rolls, passing one over to the Doctor and Clara. The Doctor muttered thanks and Clara nodded her head, unsure if she could stomach to eat anything right now.

"I don't have a plan yet, I'm just saying it's time for a plan," the Doctor told Joshua, as if he was acting a little bit too slow to keep up.

Clara smiled fondly up at him. "His plans are mainly made up as we go along."

"Eat," the Doctor instructed pointing at her. He started to pace up and down the extent of the small lair. "Not this time, Clara. This time your life is at stake. I'm not taking any chances, I promise you."

Cautiously, Clara pulled off a small piece of bread and started to chew. The Doctor was more concerned about this than she first anticipated. He was taking this absolutely seriously. Thinking this through, Clara took another bite and watched as the two men started to ramble off ideas to one another. Each one growing more ambitious as time passed by.

"How about we try and convert people over to our side? I've wanted to do that for ages –"

"No, no way. We don't know who we can trust and who would betray us in a heartbeat."

"We could try and break into the castle where Simeon stays."

"Only two of us? We'd have no idea what we're doing."

Clara raised her hand and waved it in the air, trying to catch their attention. "Hello, I'm right here! Don't you mean three of us?"

Instead of replying, the Doctor tore his bread in half and stuffed one half of it in Clara's hand. She raised her eyebrows, completely bemused. "What are you trying to do, Doctor?" she laughed, in jest. "Fattening me up for the slaughter?"

She didn't mean those words to sound bad, but in the current context, they did. He gave her a dark glare and said nothing. He bit off a piece of bread a little more roughly than intended and sat back down on the hard floor. Tiredly, he rubbed his eyes and stared into the distance, perfectly glazed over. "All I want is Clara safe. After that I will help you and Vingols, Joshua. I give you my word. But my priority is to get Clara out of here without a scratch on her head."

"I want to help too," Clara added quietly. She rolled the small segment of bread around her hands as she felt uncomfortably vulnerable in the presence of these two overly protective males.

"No," the Doctor answered simply.

Clara glanced up at him at that. "Why not? The other me managed quite well, don't you think? Single-handedly!"

"And the other you ended up dying from a bullet wound!" the Doctor snapped back. He was facing her now, overcome by a sudden irretrievable anger. "I'm sorry Clara, but just this once – just for now, you are going to do what I say, no questions asked!"

Any other time, Clara would've stormed away in anger or shouted back an angry retort. But then again, they would normally not be in this situation and the Doctor wouldn't have cause to say those words. Still, Clara wasn't going to bow down to his authority _that_ easily. She crossed her arms and glared at him defiantly. "And what if I don't?" she questioned, a little softer than she would've liked.

The Doctor leaned forward, his hands balling up into fists and his expression still pulled back in fear and fury. "Clara, what part of '_I can't lose you_' don't you understand?!"

Clara fell back, stunned into silence. She closed her mouth, only to open it again. Realising she had nothing to say – nothing she could say – she pressed her lips together in a small pout as she concentrated on his face and the meaning behind his words. Curious brown eyes met beseeching hazel. Neither partner broke off the stare. So many unsaid words passed between them in that moment. It was like a silent confession and, in return, a quiet understanding. The Doctor's hearts were pounding against his chest and he was acutely aware of how his fists were still squeezed tight, but the impact behind their significance was gone.

It was at that moment Joshua gave a low chuckle from directly in front of them. He was leaning against the wall, chewing on his bread roll, his head slightly tilted to the ground. The Doctor and Clara both jumped at the interruption, like they had been caught in a dishonourable act. The man gestured to the space between the two travelling companions, a smirk etched onto his face. "It just occurred to me that Clara and I – my Clara – had this exact same conversation once," he told them, his ice blue eyes twinkling as they melted into reminiscent tears. "There's no use, Doctor. She can be absolutely impossible when she wants to be."

Usually, Clara would have objected towards his remark. But she was too lost in the Doctor's words as she rested her head on her knees, her eyes staring poignantly at the bread he had given her. As if everything was slowly making sense, clicking into position. He cared for her – not in the way he always had. He was acting differently. Almost as if he –

"Impossible," she heard the Doctor repeat. He grinned and flicked his fringe out of his eyes. "My impossible girl."

Taking matters into his own hands, Joshua stood up straight again and started to fiddle around with a device on his wrist. Clara thought it was just a normal leather strap until now, but it seemed to be beeping and emitting small flashes of multi-coloured light.

"I'm contacting Vingols," Joshua told them. "I think we need his advice. Let's just hope he's already heard the news."

"Are there other Revolutionites in this town?" asked the Doctor.

"No. No, just me now. But perhaps he can put a new light on the situation." Joshua clicked one more tiny button. A faint ringing sounded from his communications device, like a ringer on a telephone. They waited for an answer.

Around five rings later, Vingols answered.

"I was expecting you to call, Thompson," sounded a quiet voice from the other end. Joshua clicked the device onto loudspeaker. "Don't worry, I've heard. What's the situation like in the town?"

"Complete lockdown, sir. They've given us five days. But, sir, I have more important information to tell you. Are you alone?"

"Yes… yes, I'm alone. What is it?"

"You'll never believe it but…" Joshua glanced at the Doctor, now a large grin on his face. "I've found the Doctor."

"The Doctor? _The_ Doctor?" the disbelief was clear in Vingols' voice.

"Only, this is where is gets complicated, we also have –" but now the Doctor was waving his hands in the air, signalling Joshua not to bring up the subject of Clara. "The Doctor's friend with us," Joshua quickly corrected. "He wants to get her out of here before helping us."

There was a beat. "Can you put him on? Can I speak to him?"

Joshua held out the speaker on his arm. The Doctor walked forward. With his hands held behind his back and leaning over Joshua's wristband, the Doctor used quite a stiff tone when speaking to the Revolutionite leader. "Hello, Vingols! I take it you remember me. Sorry about the different voice, face, and dashing good looks but I have regenerated since the last time I saw you. Or spoke to you. Listen, it'll take too long to explain. But we need your help. Is there anyway you can manipulate the iron bars surrounding the town long enough for my friend to conveniently escape?"

Vingols gave a harsh laugh. "No way in hell, Doctor. We don't have any control over Thompson's town yet. I don't think there is anything we can do. But tell me this, are definitely willing to help our cause again? For Hartley?"

"Yes, yes for Hartley." The Doctor rubbed his forehead and pinched the area between his eyebrows. "Once my friend is out of the danger zone, I shall help you. I mean that Vingols, not before. I want her out and that's final. Then I'm all yours."

The revolutionary leader sighed tiredly. "The only thing I can think of is for you or Joshua to break into the control room inside Simeon's castle. Turn off the electrical field, let your friend escape and then quickly turn them back on. It'll be risky, but it's the only chance you have."

The Doctor's eyes widened. Clara could tell he was exploring the possibility. She frowned in dismay – no way was she going to let the Doctor risk his life like that, just so she could escape back into the TARDIS. Anything could happen to them.

"How much do we know about Simeon's castle?" asked the Doctor.

"That's the place, the balcony, Simeon made his announcement from," answered Joshua, pointing in the general direction. "It's massive. Lined with security. I had a shift in the control room when I was working in there. I know its location. We'd have to check out how heavily guarded it is, though. Especially now we're in a lockdown."

Tapping his hand against the side of his head, the Doctor swiftly nodded in agreement. "Right, yes. Of course, yes. We'll check it out and see if we can spot a weak point where we can get in. Is that our only way of breaking through the lockdown, Vingols?"

"Yeah, it's your only bet. I'll see if there's anything I can do in towns where we have more control, Doctor. But at the moment I can't think of another solution."

"Yes, thank you, Vingols."

"I hope to hear from the both of you soon. Good luck and… I'm glad you're here, Doctor."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. He didn't smile. With two fingers he gave a tiny salute to the communications device, saying, "Over and out."

The wristband emitted a muffled static noise and Joshua clicked it off loudspeaker. Clara immediately butted in, wanting to make herself known. She walked over beside the two men, and before either of them could say anything, she told them clearly, "Absolutely no way. Neither of you are going in there. It's far too dangerous."

"You're right," Joshua added with fake innocence. "We both would have to go in there. It's too dangerous as a standalone mission."

Clara sighed and crossed her arms. She turned to the Doctor; he was standing perfectly still and staring at the ground. She could tell straight away that his mind was already whizzing with lots of ideas and possibilities, mixing between what he already knew and what he was guessing. Without even looking at her, he could tell what she was about to say. "What is your alternative, Clara?" he asked, quietly. His hand rested under his chin while the other brushed away his fringe. "Them finding you and killing you? The choice is simple."

Growing desperate, Clara said with a hint of sarcasm, "They want me alive. They're hardly going to kill me."

He shot her the deadliest glare. "Which is worse. Far worse."

Clara didn't exactly know what he meant by that. But she did know one thing for certain – the fear he was feeling towards her being in danger, was exactly the same corrupting, hollow feeling she had when she thought of him in danger. Clara didn't quite know how to say all of that without getting ridiculously embarrassed. She wasn't happy about this. Any of it.

Joshua took it upon himself to swing them into action. "Why don't we check out what we're up against, Doctor? See how many guards are outside the castle, if the security has heightened from the last time I was in there. That sort of thing."

The Doctor passed one more unclear glance over Clara. "Yeah. Good idea, Joshua." He stopped, paused and squinted. "Joshua Thompson. Has a nice ring to it. Joshua Thompson. Have I heard that before?"

"I'm named after my great, great grandfather, if that helps," Joshua offered, walking towards the bottom of the stairs. "My ancestors were famous scientists back on Earth. Something of a legend, apparently. I don't really take any notice."

Just as the Doctor was about to respond, he noticed Clara following Joshua to the stairs. He flapped his arms in the air as he tried to find the appropriate words to tell her how her joining them was out of the question, but Joshua stepped into defend her.

"Come on, Doctor. We're only going out for a few minutes. We'll be careful, you'll see."

Clara's eyes glittered mischievously. Finally someone was on her side. Before he could say another thing, Clara pulled up her hood and bounced up the stairs, one step at a time. The Doctor traipsed over to where Joshua stood, his lips firmly frowning, but his eyes a little wide with amusement. "I can't do anything with her," he told the Revolutionite. "Every time I try to keep her safe she just…" he clapped his hands together and gestured to the open stairway.

Joshua patted the Doctor's shoulder. "Wait until you can't do anything _without_ her," Joshua said, faintly reminiscent. "Then you'll be thinking of how you could've done more to keep her safe. How it should've been you in her place."

He said nothing else; there was nothing else to say. That was the truth of it. At the sound of Clara calling down the stairs to them, Joshua and the Doctor gave each other another mutual look as both of them followed the lead of Clara.

* * *

The town was deserted and the sky was a dark grey. It was nearing night, Clara was sure of it. Only the odd person passed them as they slowly walked, heads down, to Simeon's castle. Luckily, they didn't stand out from the crowd – everyone, it seemed, was wearing cloaks to shelter themselves from the brisk evening wind. Joshua and Clara fit right in. If anything, it was the Doctor who stood out from the three of them, something which he didn't take lightly when Joshua pointed out.

They were loitering around the side of a food shop, directly facing Simeon's castle across the opposite side of the courtyard. Five guards stood in front of the entrance to the headquarters, all holding long black guns and shaded helmets. Not being able to see their eyes, or where they were looking, made Clara shiver. There was something unnerving about not being able to meet the eye of the enemy. Or, just maybe, it was the image of her still on the screen from earlier, staring forebodingly down at them. A constant reminder of why they were doing this.

"I'm going to have a look around the back," the Doctor told them. "Stay here."

Joshua grabbed the Doctor's arm before he disappeared. "You're too brightly coloured. You'll attract attention. The average man in this town can't afford boisterous colours like purple. Why do you think everyone is wearing cloaks? So we all fit in. We're all unrecognisable to the guards, just another hooded figure going about their business. Trust me, Doctor – this is a dictatorship. Anyone to show individualism is swiftly dealt with by the police."

The Doctor's eyebrows pulled inwards in a mini outrage. He shrugged off his jacket and held it out to Joshua. "Hold this then. And keep it safe, I'm very fond of that coat."

"Be careful," Clara called as he pretended to casually walk past the castle.

Silence fell between Clara and Joshua. Clara was too nervous to say anything and Joshua couldn't find words. It still felt odd for him to be alone with a girl who looked exactly like his dead best friend. Especially when his feelings for his Clara were starting to reignite at the very sight and presence of this new Clara. It was all very confusing.

Then, numerous things happened at once.

The wind picked up speed just as Clara turned her head. A figure in a dark black cloak walked in their direction. Clara's hood caught the air and fell backwards before she could reach it. Joshua impulsively recognised what was happening and acted just in time. The cloaked man passed, and there was no doubt he would see Clara in a split second but –

Joshua did the first thing that came to his mind. He grabbed Clara, roughly, by her forearms and held her in a tight embrace. He pressed his lips against hers, perfectly precise, then moved his hands up to hold her head in position so she couldn't move away.

It worked. Joshua's muscular body completely hid Clara from the view of the passing man. Somewhere in his mind, Joshua could hear the passer by muttering something under his breath about 'getting a room.' Joshua smirked against Clara's lips but didn't let go. Was he imagining it or was Clara actually sinking into his soft kiss?

Clara reached up and forcefully pushed away Joshua's hands. They broke apart, one of them flustered and the other nothing else but content. Joshua laughed as Clara's cheeks turned a guilty shade of pink and she pointed at him with such ferocity, he might as well have kicked a puppy right in front of her.

Therefore, it was the right time for the Doctor to show up.

"Guys, there's a definite weakness around the back and to the side, I think –"

But Clara wasn't listening. Shouting at him, to cover up her embarrassment, Clara yelled, "You kissed me! _You_ kissed _me_!"

The Doctor's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. It looked as if someone had just pointed a gun to his head. In high, squeaky disbelief, he demanded, "You what?!"

Joshua shrugged, totally cool about everything. "That wasn't a kiss. That was a distraction."

The Doctor glanced between his two comrades. Joshua was standing, a cheeky glimmer in his ice blue eyes and had adopted an air of confidence. Meanwhile, Clara was still pink in the cheeks, her lips were a little red and puffy and her eyes were alight with surprise. A strange fiery irritation erupted deep in the Doctor's stomach, bursting to get out. Unable to hide his strong reaction, he held his hands out between the two of them and took a strong stance, head and shoulders rigidly straight.

"I demand to know what happened here!" he said loudly, all other thoughts vanishing as soon as the word 'kiss' was dropped into the conversation.

"He kissed me!" Clara repeated as if that was all that needed to be said.

Joshua smirked again. "Okay, this is what happened. Clara's hood fell down, someone was coming, I was afraid they would recognise her, so I did the first thing that I thought would work. I kissed her."

"I was gone for a few minutes and that was the first thing you think of!" the Doctor barked.

The blue-eyed man held his hands up in a small surrender. "It hid her face from view, didn't it? I saved her life!"

In a quieter tone than before, Clara said once more, "You kissed me!"

Joshua leaned against the wall behind them, crossed his arms and shook his head, feigning innocence. "Let me tell you something – that was not a kiss. That was far from a kiss. If I wanted to kiss someone properly, it would not be like that. You'd be swept off your feet. Then again, you are a bit already." Joshua waited a beat before winking. "You should try it properly some time."

Clara's mind was too muddled to think up a proper retort. Struggling with words, she narrowed her eyes and advanced on him. The Doctor could see where this was going – his mind drifted back to that time the TARDIS nearly exploded. Clara's punches hurt; he thought he still had the bruises.

The Doctor stepped in front of Clara and turned on Joshua. With the ball of fire still pulsing in his stomach at the thought of Joshua kissing _his_ Clara, the Doctor lowered his voice to show how serious he was. "There will be no kissing while I'm not around! Okay? No kissing at all! None, zilch, non kissy-kissy!"

Joshua was just about to laugh. Clara's high-pitched voice behind him asked incredulously, "Did you just say 'non kissy-kissy?'"

The Doctor sniffed, straightened his bowtie and glanced at her sideways. He was careful to stay in between Joshua and Clara, in case a supernatural magnet pulled them together and they would start kissing again. "I might've. But the point still stands. Kissing is banned!"

There was a moment of awkward silence.

Clara, clearly begrudgingly, glanced towards Joshua. "Thanks, by the way."

Joshua raised his eyebrows. He looked at the Doctor, to Clara, and deciding to wind them up even further, just for his own amusement, asked, "Thanks for the kissing or for saving your life?"

The expression on each of their faces was priceless. Joshua hadn't laughed so hard in months. He pulled the Doctor close and loosely hung an arm around his shoulder. He checked it was safe before doing the same with Clara. "I'm only messing around. Come on, you know I'm joking! Now, Doctor, back to business. What were you saying?"

The Doctor didn't feel like letting the subject drop. Why was it bothering so much that Joshua kissed Clara, even if it wasn't a proper kiss? It felt wrong as he thought of it, like it didn't belong in his mind. He had to physically shake his head to clear it, reminding himself of Clara's shocked reaction to Joshua's distraction.

"Yes, I – I think I've found a way in. It won't be easy, of course, but we weren't expecting it to be. You're going to have to trust me, Joshua. Can you do that? Do you trust me completely?"

Joshua took a moment. His eyes scanned over Clara. He knew she trusted the Doctor, and if she was anything like his Clara, she had an impeccable judgement. He thought of how the Doctor stared at her, with absolute adoration and respect in his eyes, as if his entire universe revolved around her and her alone. Anyone who cared that much about someone wouldn't risk anything to lose them. He had no doubts about that.

In a lot of ways, Joshua could see a lot of himself in the Doctor.

So, the question was easy to answer. "Yes," Joshua confirmed, speaking from his heart, "Of course I do."

* * *

** Note: You know the expression Matt gave when David insulted his interior design in the TARDIS? That's exactly the same expression I was imagining the Doctor giving when he heard Joshua kissed Clara. **


	10. Confessions

** A/N: This turned out to be a rather fluffy chapter. The plan was for it to lead into the Doctor and Joshua's raid in Simeon's castle, but I got slightly side-tracked… Hopefully you like it all the same. A big, big thank you to everyone who has reviewed the last few chapters: whoufflemysouffle, ImpossibleClara9 (hmm, that may happen ;)), Guest, runyoucleverboy-remember, Kariana Kusanagi, sesshomarugirl4ever, Guest, Guest, pancakes, Ellie, AMysteriousWoman711, RandomVictorian, Jesusisboss, Neonluminosity, Planet of the Deaf, Elenwhatthe and DesiringMagic. If you reviewed twice, you're too amazing for words.**

** Chapter Ten: Confessions**

When they reached the safety of their makeshift home, Joshua suggested they each get some sleep. He laid out two blankets and battered pillows for the Doctor and Clara, insisting he was used to sleeping on the floor with his cloak to cover him. The Doctor insisted that he didn't need to sleep and so the kind gesture was wasted on him, but Joshua would hear none of it. The lonely Revolutionite made himself comfy in the hidden department at the back of his underground lair, leaving the Doctor and Clara on their own in the main space.

The Doctor and Clara slept separately, to Clara's secret dismay. The Doctor gave her his blanket, but he could still see her little form shaking underneath the thin layers. He couldn't help but snatch a glance every few minutes, knowing he wouldn't sleep anyway, for more than his usual reasons. It was when Clara breathed out an unsteady breath that the Doctor softly crawled closer to her and pressed a soft hand on her waist.

"Are you cold?" he asked, needlessly.

"It's freezing," she muttered underneath her blankets.

Without asking for permission, the Doctor gently nudged Clara closer to him. He draped one arm around her back and the other rested on her hand, holding it tightly. How come he couldn't feel safe any more without touching her hand? It puzzled him. Clara pressed her head on his chest, resuming their usual sleeping position, a small smile flashing over her face. The Doctor leaned his chin on the top of her head.

"Better?"

"Much better."

"Is that all I am to you, Clara Oswald? A human heater?"

Clara rolled her eyes. She patted his stomach and replied in a whisper, "Yes, it is. That and my personal chauffer through time and space."

He chuckled at that. Absentmindedly his hand moved from her back to her hair. He started to run the individual strands through his fingers, curiously noticing that even her hair had different versions of itself; different shades of brown. The sensation sent pleasant trickles of warmth down Clara's spine. Her eyes started to flutter, closing, briefly forgetting the ominous danger she was attracting.

There was a few moments of content silence, in which neither the Doctor nor Clara wanted to disrupt the serene atmosphere. The Doctor felt a change in Clara's breathing as she leaned across his chest. He frowned, only because he knew Clara couldn't see it.

"You know, Clara, when I first met you, I thought you were brilliant. You were a Victorian governess, of course, but you were still you. A part of you. I was in a dark place back then. You were the first thing to distract me. You made me feel a spark for life I thought I would never feel again." He studied a light brown strand of hair, faintly shining gold. "Then I lost you, and that hurt. More than I thought it would. But your effect stayed. It made me hope again. Then I found out I'd already met you in the form of a… Well, in a completely different, horrible form but you were still so _you_. That intrigued me; how could I keep meeting you? Of all the people in the universe."

She didn't reply, so the Doctor supposed she was waiting for him to finish his story.

"I went looking for you. How could I not? The only mystery worth solving. Always full of surprises, it turned out _you_ were the one to find _me_. Hah! Imagine that. But, of course, you know the rest after that. Our stories entwine from that moment. Actually, they've been entwined all my life now I think of it. Always missing each other. Always going different directions. I suppose that's why…" How was that sentence going to end? He was never very good at finishing what he started, especially concerning words. And feelings. "What I'm trying to say, Clara, is that I didn't only find you again for the mystery. It was a large part, but it wasn't the most significant. You intrigued me in a different way. I knew the Victorian version of you had made me feel so… complete. I needed to feel that again. I needed you again."

He looked at a dark brown, almost black, strand of hair and brushed it flat on her head. "I suppose I just wanted you to know that in case – well, in case you thought…" the Doctor gave a small, sad laugh. "Sorry, I'm not very good at this. Never have been. What I'm trying to say is, you probably already know – you should – that I need you. Clara, you mean a lot to me. I really, truly mean that. The last time I felt anything remotely close was nearly four hundred years ago, I think. That ended badly. I guess that's why I'm so protective."

With a jolt, he realised how quiet Clara had been during this whole exchange. "Clara?" he asked, peering down at her worriedly. "Are you…?"

But Clara was fast asleep with a smile on her face, her right hand clenched tightly on the Doctor's waistcoat and her left gripping onto his hand. He gave an exasperated and slightly amused sigh: as soon as he did say the right words, the other half of the conversation wasn't even conscious. His lips brushed against her forehead and his own eyes closed for a few long seconds, as he muttered, "Well, since you can't hear this… You mean the whole universe to me, Clara. And the universe is infinite. Trust me, I've checked."

* * *

When Clara awoke she was alone. The blankets were cosily snuggled around her, as if someone decided the tighter they were the warmer she'd be but her arm was outstretched, like she reaching for someone who wasn't there. Clara blinked a few times, remembering where she was and why she was here, and then leaned back onto the pillow, staring up at the shadowy ceiling. Where had the Doctor disappeared to?

She wasn't left alone long with her thoughts. Joshua traipsed in, his wavy brown hair messy and his lips pulled back into a massive, impressive yawn. He greeted Clara before stretching out his limbs. Clara winched as she heard his joints crack.

"He left earlier to check on something," Joshua informed, reading her thoughts. "He said he'd be back before you woke up but…"

Clara perched herself up on her elbows at that. "Do you think he's okay?"

"If anyone would be okay out on their own, it would be him I reckon." Joshua plopped down beside her. "If either of us went out, well, we have the risk of being recognised. Even after the last few months, I think they'd still recognise me."

"What do you mean?"

He pointed to his hair and stubble. "Believe it or not, I used to be cleanly shaven with short hair. I tried to make myself look physically different as possible. I don't know, I think these charming good looks are hard to disguise. Not easy to forget, are they Clara?" He stopped to stare at her. Instead of looking into her eyes, he was looking through them. As if he was searching for something he knew he could find.

"I'm sorry, Joshua. I don't have any of your Clara's memories," Clara said apologetically. She could tell he wanted to know but couldn't ask. "All of my past lives used to haunt my dreams and shadow my every move, but then the Doctor helped me. He placed a shield in my mind to stop them reaching my subconscious."

"Yeah." He sniffed and looked away. "I didn't think someone would be able to live with all those memories. Doesn't matter. What is past is past."

Clara grimaced. "Easier said than done, though, when the past comes back like I do, yeah?"

He smiled; it was a small smile as if she had comforted him by saying words which were helpful and supportive. "Trust me, I'm not complaining." Unheard to Clara, something had distracted Joshua. He was slowly rising to his feet and carefully walking towards the stairs. As he peeked around the corner, Clara realised she too could hear footsteps. Her heart sank in her chest and she started to peel away her blankets to pull her cardigan back on.

There was no reason to worry: it was the Doctor. Before he even had a chance to open his mouth, Clara was over to him in a second, shoving him roughly on the arm. "Where the hell did you go?" she demanded.

He broke into an ecstatic grin. "I was checking on the TARDIS! Guess what she's done, Clara, guess what the sexy thing has done!"

Clara simply groaned and walked back to her pile of blankets. Joshua looked utterly confused.

"She realised she was in danger from being recognised and fixed the chameleon circuit!" the Doctor burst out. "Completely invisible! No one can find her! Apart from us, of course, because she'll reveal herself to us."

Smiling, just to please him, Clara said dramatically, "That's _brilliant_!"

Joshua took a step back to get a better look at the Doctor. "Did you just call your TARDIS _sexy_?"

Clara waved her hand in the air. "Yeah, he's in a co-dependent relationship with his TARDIS and a screwdriver." She paused, and genuinely considered, "Sometimes I wonder where he finds the time to fit me in."

Joking aside, the Doctor was back on mission mode. He directed his attention on Joshua and patted the man firmly on his shoulder. "Ready?"

Joshua gave a single nod. "Ready."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Clara interrupted. "You don't have a plan! You haven't discussed anything or – or…" she was searching for something, anything to say to stop them from going through with this. Her heart felt as if it was in her forehead and she couldn't think straight with worry.

"We did," Joshua informed. "While you were asleep. Just before the Doctor left to check on his TARDIS. Way ahead of you, Clara."

Clara struggled for a few moments as she glanced in between the two men. "But you – you don't have any back up or – what if something happens? Can't I at least –"

The Doctor walked halfway over to her, his eyes soft but determined. "I need your cloak. If Joshua and I succeed then I'll come back here for you and quickly get you out of the gates and back into the TARDIS. Joshua is going to wait ten minutes exactly before putting the shield back up. Long enough for us to get you out, but short enough for no one to notice. Especially this early in the morning."

Was it morning? Time seemed to be escaping from Clara. Every second felt like it was leading up to a dangerous climax, one that would only end in tears and solitude. She sighed, in a huff with both of them, but knowing she really couldn't be annoyed because after all, they were only trying to save her from Simeon. Save her from meeting the same end as the rest of her echoes. The longer she, the Doctor and the Great Intelligence stayed within the same proximity, the more likely it seemed the usual ending would happen: Simeon would try and kill the Doctor and Clara would come to the rescue, willingly giving her life. But Simeon wasn't after the Doctor; he didn't even know the Doctor was here. If he had read the scrolls, Simeon would still think the Doctor looked like his previous regeneration. Perhaps the situation was different this time.

She was going to say this to the Doctor, but she knew what he would say. If she did point out that it was different than how her echoes had died, because she was the _original_, the Doctor's argument would be: "You were the original you when you jumped into my timestream to save me. The only reason why you survived was because I saved you." Then the usual blabber of how he might be too late the next time. How many chances would he have before Clara died forever? They were playing with fire, as the saying goes. Tempting the inevitable. Taunting the tiger.

Clara was so distracted by her own thoughts that she didn't realise the Doctor was offering her his hand to help her up. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and lifted her up into the air. She pressed her face into his shoulder, breathing in his familiar smell and imprinting it onto her memory so she could remember it forever. When he put her back down on the ground, his eyes glued onto hers and locked themselves there.

"You said you felt safe," he said so lowly, Clara thought she misheard.

"What?"

His cold hand cupped her dimpled cheek. "You asked me what you said just before you fell asleep. You said you felt safe. With me."

Clara's eyes widened in understanding. She glanced down at his thumb, no longer able to meet his eyes.

"And that's not going to change, Clara."

Then he did something unexpected.

The Doctor leaned down and delicately kissed the corner of her mouth. It was just a gentle, soft kiss, but layered with meaning and sentiment – unspoken promises, suppressed desires and a mutual burst of unconditional passion – all expressed in one lingering kiss. Clara let her eyes flutter closed, and even when he pulled away, she found she couldn't open them. His warmth was still guarding the corner of her mouth where his lips had been only seconds previously – as if his touch was catching all the escaping whispered feelings passively storming between them.

Had he meant to kiss her lips and missed? Or, were her lips the intended destination but he decided against it at the last moment because their future was so uncertain?

He brushed her hair before he stepped away. In a hushed tone, he said, "I promise."

And when Clara reopened her eyes, he was gone. So was Joshua.

Unexpectedly, Clara was glad she was alone. No one was around to see the warm tear that trickled down her cheek, leaving a small part of itself as it travelled in the form of a tear track, just before the very last drop of it fell to the ground and was absorbed by the thick dust.

* * *

** Note: So close to being a proper kiss! I promise, when it does happen, it'll be worth the wait. I'm waiting for the right moment. The chapter would've been far too long with all the fluff and the action. The next chapter will be up rather soon, I imagine. Thank you for reading. Could you be a darling and leave a review? **


	11. Suspense and Sincerity

**A/N: I hope you're ready… Remember: Eleven's the best!**

** Chapter Eleven: Suspense and Sincerity**

Their plan was simple. Not simple out of choice, but because they didn't have the resources to come up with an enormously elusive plan. All they needed to do was split up, meet in the middle of the courtyard and a single punch would start it all off.

Joshua's cape was darker than many of the others in the town, so the Doctor could easily distinguish him from the crowd. For Joshua, he could spot the Doctor's brightly coloured purple coat underneath his disguise. They were walking towards each other, slow but on a certain path. All they needed to do was attract the attention of the entire group of guards. Create chaos, unavoidable chaos.

When they were only a few metres apart, Joshua started to run. Fist outstretched and raw scream escaping from his throat, the Doctor watched the burly man storming towards him and did all he could not to flinch. Joshua's fist was inches away from hitting his chin when the Doctor took hold of his arms and threw him to the side. With intentional emphasis, Joshua fell back, falling in the nearby stall selling fruit and vegetables. The thin lanky stall owner yelled out in fury. Joshua pointed to the Doctor. "It was him! Blame him!"

The stall owner picked up his fallen produce and started to throw it at the Doctor. Everything from Satsuma's to pineapples came flying and rolling his way. Joshua charged at the Doctor again, the pair pretended to struggle in each other's grip, until they both fell into a stall selling perfume. The bottles crashed to the ground, some of them even breaking, and before they knew it, another discontented civilian and joined in the fight.

Now the guards were paying attention and watching the events unfold. The man selling fruit had started to shout at his neighbouring stall owner, in response to him complaining about the mess getting over his precious jewels. A passer by tried to help the woman with her fallen perfume bottles but now she was yelling out, "Thief! Thief!" Nearby sellers were shouting at them, telling them all to be quiet, and that was now causing disputes further in the gathered stalls.

The Doctor and Joshua got to their feet. With a firm grip on one another, they flung themselves into the deepest gather of stalls, spinning around aimlessly, trying to hit everything they could. The effect was almost instantaneous; it was unavoidable to get out of it. Now and again an orange would come soaring their way and someone's rough hands would try and grab them, but the Doctor and Joshua only shared a swift agreeing glance before running off in different directions. The guards were in the mix now, using their fists to calm people down while others shouted loudly for who had started the whole scene.

Joshua ran around the back of the castle while the Doctor attacked the front door. He used his sonic to easily break through the security. Now he had to find the panel containing all of the controls to each of the entrances, let Joshua in and while he found the control room, the Doctor would manipulate the speaker grill to announce there is a serious malfunction with the interior software within the building. Joshua would turn off the electrical shield and the Doctor would already be halfway to Clara, ready to get her out. After ten minutes, Joshua had to put the shield back up and escape through the unlocked window on the ground floor, which the Doctor conveniently unlocked while he manipulated the controls.

At least, that was the plan.

* * *

Simeon, _President_ Simeon, was watching the commotion from his bedroom window. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back while his head was completely levelled, nose in the air, and eyes piercing the town below. His lips tilted downwards ever so slightly, turning into a rigid straight line. Uncompromising, defiant and vengeful.

"Sir, they are turning against each other. What should we do?"

"Let it happen," barked Simeon in a power-packed punch. "Hostility. That's what we want. When you have no friends or anyone to turn to, people seek comfort in their superiors."

His eyes flicked to the large screen hovering above the civilians. Agent Oswin. Her taunting face was staring back at him, and his nose shrivelled up in distaste. "In fact," he said, "Send out a search crew. Heighten tension. Look out for anyone suspicious. I know she's out there somewhere, Mansfield, all I need is a lead to go on."

"But sir," objected Mansfield, a tremor in his tone. "I thought we were waiting until tomorrow to send out a search crew?"

"I want fear; blood-curdling, heart wrenching fear, Mansfield." Simeon turned on the spot, his polished shoes never leaving the floor. His sly cold eyes lingered on the commanding officer. "Those scrolls could cost us our government. The weapon is half finished – imagine if Oswin reaches the Revolutionites before we capture her?"

Mansfield bowed his head. He redirected his gaze; he had never been able to meet Simeon in the eyes – there was something haunting about them due to the _lack_ of anything there. They were blank canvases, promising no mercy or forgiveness. No heart. No soul. They were empty. Someone with no conscience was always ten times scarier than someone with a bad conscience. One understood limits and wanted to cross them anyway, while the other… had no limits in the first place to cross. Mansfield shivered at the very thought.

"Sir," he acknowledged before escaping towards the door.

"Mansfield," Simeon called back. His face remained emotionless, impassive, uncaring as he reminded, "Don't hesitate to use force."

* * *

When the armed guards marched through the castle, the Doctor quickly hid in an indent on the furthest wall and crouched out of sight. _Too many guards for one street riot_, he thought to himself curiously. _They really meant business with the zero tolerance policy. Then again, they always do._ He waited a good few seconds before creeping out just in case another batch bumped into him.

The castle might look traditional on the outside, but inside was the complete opposite. The walls and floors were lined in metal and stretched on as far as the Doctor could see. His hearts were beating unsteadily in his chest as he removed his sonic and scanned the architecture, searching for some pattern of wiring which all led to the same place. He found nothing on the left wall, so turned his attention to the right. His screwdriver picked up on something straight away: _bingo_! At least he now knew he was on the right path.

He followed the wiring like it was a trail of breadcrumbs, leading him directly to the witch's house.

Meanwhile, Joshua was crouched against the back entrance which was completely boarded up in all types of security measures possible. He desperately hoped the Doctor's sonic screwdriver thing was up to the challenge, because it looked nearly impossible to break through by hand. His hand tapped edgily against his thigh, beating out an uneven rhythm, with no other purpose than ease his nerves. _Come on, come on, Doctor._

Joshua had to admit he missed the thrill of a mission. It was three months ago he had his last assignment from Vingols. After that his life was in danger and Vingols didn't want to lose anymore men. Nothing could get your heart racing or make you feel alive quite like the risk of being captured by the enemy. Some people liked it and to others it was their worst nightmare – Joshua had always been a reckless child. Clara used to say he had never grown out of boyhood.

_Clara_.

He chanced a glance around the side of the castle, just a quick second glance. Then, upon recognising the uniform of the soldiers, Joshua pressed himself to the ground, eyes wide and every sense more alert than before. Those were _real_ soldiers. Used for war and combat. Not casual guards, but proper trained men, intent on creating masses of destruction.

They were raiding the houses. That could only mean –

Clara!

Joshua didn't even think about what he was doing. All he could register was that he was on his feet and running – running as fast as he could towards the front of the castle. Towards the Doctor.

* * *

Clara was pacing in a large circle around the hidden lair. Her fingers were fumbling with her mother's ring, twisting it and turning it, pulling it off and putting it back on again. Then her hands brushed away her fringe in a nervous twitch, finally resting on her lips where she started to trace the outline and prod and poke. _Another fifteen steps. And another, _she counted in to herself. Her arms dropped from her face and started to swing at her sides, eyes now closed to ease the building tension rising like steam in her abdomen.

It was too soon – far too soon for the Doctor to be back here yet. He and Joshua mightn't even be at the castle. She went through the route in her mind again, estimating and re-estimating where they should be now and trying to figure out _what_ they were doing.

Her mind could focus on nothing but the sound of her own lonely footsteps, the pumping of her heart echoing throughout her body and the remaining traces of the Doctor's kiss on the corner of her mouth.

Therefore, it was only natural when she heard a disturbance directly above the lair. She stopped pacing in the middle of the room, completely frozen, and her head sharply glanced upwards. A few clumps of dust fell from the ceiling and landed at Clara's feet. What was happening?

Clara knew she should stay where she was, but her curiosity had always gotten the better of her, even when she was little. Her mind drifted to the Doctor; what if it was him? What if he needed her help? And she knew there was nothing else for it: she had to have a quick look outside.

Especially when she heard a woman scream out in protest from somewhere in the distance.

Clara sprinted up the stairs and heaved open the trapdoor. Her breathing hitched in her throat when she reached the top and she had to squint at the bright daylight. There was movement all around the wooden cabin; through the cracks in the wood Clara could see men in blue uniform, a short way away in the distance, running around with guns, pulling people from their houses and she could hear shouts, yells, fights combined with a terrible crashing from behind the walls. They were raiding people's homes.

And where she was standing was their next target.

Clara flinched as she heard two male voices shout loudly to each other from the side of the hut:

"This? It's just a food storage thing!"

"Simeon said search _everything_."

Clara's beating heart was so loud in her eardrums that it might as well call out her exact position to the searching soldiers. Her hair whipped around her face as she looked for something to help her – but the hut was empty, all except the hidden trapdoor. What if they noticed it? What if the disguise wasn't good enough? They'd find her and drag her away instantly and she'd probably never see the Doctor again.

There was nothing else to do; she had to hope for the best. As fast as she could possibly manage, Clara swept away the footprints around the trapdoor and brushed extra sand over the top before pulling it back with shaky hands. Was she breathing? She'd forgotten to breathe, her mind was numb, her heart was screaming and her adrenaline had reached a peak higher than Everest. She almost fell down the stone stairs in her haste to lock the door behind her, grazing her hands as she grabbed for support against the hard rock. Any second now –

With only a second to spare, the hinge creaked as the soldiers stepped through into the wooden hut. Clara sat, as flat to the stairs as she could get, listening to their footsteps.

_ Tap. Tap. Tap. _

_ Tap. _

The footsteps had stopped directly above her. Clara's breathing was too loud, she was sure they could hear her – she pressed the palm of her hand over her mouth and nose, squeezing her eyes shut from the apprehension.

Another moment of deadly silence.

"Empty. Just like I said."

Clara's eyes shot open, wider than they'd ever been in her entire life.

"I don't know. I see an old man come here now and again. Why would he come here when this place is empty?"

One of her shaky, sweaty hands covered her heart as Clara felt a stab of fear pulse through her veins.

"Probably just a homeless old man looking for somewhere to sleep. We better go – the boss won't be happy we haven't found anything."

One pair of feet loudly padded over to the door and roughly pulled it open. He swore when the flimsy wood snapped away from the rusty hinge.

"Wait," called the second soldier.

Clara's heart abruptly slowed to a stop.

Dust fell onto Clara's hair as the second soldier walked away from the trapdoor. "What's that?" the man gruffly asked.

* * *

The guards were still struggling with the stall owners when Joshua came flying around the front of the castle. His feet barely touched the ground as he sprinted through the silver corridors, eyes squinting to look for a sign of the Doctor. He wanted to shout out but he knew it would attract needless attention and would definitely do more harm than good. Seconds were ticking away, precious seconds, ones that might be irreplaceable – it would only take a fraction of a second for something undoable to be done, and there was no going back from that. It took less than a second for a cold bullet to leave a gaping hole in Clara's side and now that one second was always running through his mind, clouding his every action and would haunt him for the rest of his life. Time belonged to the moment and not to the person, and some moments you couldn't heal. Some moments consisted of tears and blood and gut-wrenching selfish fear as the love of your life died in your arms.

But his thoughts weren't making sense; they were muddled, confused, and unnecessarily abstract in his chaotic mind. _Find the Doctor, find the Doctor, find the Doctor._

Joshua skidded to a stop as he turned the right corner.

The Doctor was cornered; his hood was down, his face revealed and his sonic screwdriver pointed at the three guards holding massive, bulky guns.

Joshua didn't have time to think of a proper rescue. He took a running leap and crashed into the middle guard, knocking them both to the ground as he grabbed onto the man's back and punched him squarely in the face. The Doctor pointed his screwdriver in the air, and all of the bullets fell to the floor of the metal corridor, sounding like heavy rain on a thin window. Rendering the guns as useless, the guard on the left launched himself at the Doctor, kicking him in the stomach and sending a harsh strike to his face. The third guard jumped on top of Joshua, who now had two opponents; in a frenzy of limbs, and down to nothing but pure talent, Joshua clambered out of the scruff, kicked the third guard and pushed him down on top of the previous. The Doctor knocked his own guard out of the way, to which Joshua then took hold of his back and hit him against the iron wall.

As the man crumpled to the ground, Joshua shouted, "Doctor! They've sent out a raid party!"

The Doctor's face fell and he glanced towards the direction of the exit. "Clara!" he realised.

In one fluid motion, the Doctor jumped over the two scuffling guards, Joshua not too far behind. One of the guards made an attempt to run after them, but his colleague pulled him back. "We have to tell Mansfield or Simeon," he snapped, wiping away a trickle of blood from his hairline. "We might have a lead."

* * *

Joshua grudgingly suggested to the Doctor that they take the long route back to the hut to avoid anyone following them. The Doctor agreed. Neither of them slowed down. As the wind blew their cloaks behind them, the Doctor surged onward, steely determination keeping him firmly routed to reality. Otherwise, his mind was going to drift with the wind, into dangerous and dark territory; territory where he's let Clara slip through his fingers.

The Doctor's hearts sank when the hut came into view. He slowed down to a brisk walk, Joshua still by his side every step of the way.

The door was off its hinges and pushed roughly against the outside of the hut. Large footprints were scattered over the dusty ground.

Joshua and the Doctor shared a long, mutual stare, each man lost in their own form of fear. Each dreading to look under the trapdoor.

* * *

** Note: Oooohh, cliffhanger. You know what would solve a cliffhanger? Reviews. Can we reach 70 by the next chapter? Thank you for all the support! **


	12. A Perfect Stalemate

** A/N: I'll do my best to get a chapter up at the weekend again, but I have this massive assignment for university that I haven't planned, researched or read the books for, and since it's due on Monday, I'll be trying to get it finished at the weekend (or started, whatever way you want to look at it). The good news is – after that; I have no more assignments until the exams finish in January, yay! Lots more writing over Christmas. Hope you enjoy!**

** Chapter Twelve: A Perfect Stalemate**

When the Doctor peeked down to the bottom of the lair, his hearts fluttered in relief when he spotted Clara sitting on the floor, her head resting against her knees and her shoulders ever so slightly shaking.

"Clara!" he exclaimed.

She jumped at his sudden return, immediately getting to her feet and rearranging her features. Smiling, she met him halfway, sinking into his grip so easily that the Doctor could only imagine the stress she faced down here alone. The enemy only inches away from finding her. Subconsciously, he held her tighter.

But she pulled away to get a better look at his face. Clara reached up to stroke the area just below his lip, wearing an instant frown while her eyebrows pulled together. "You're bleeding," she stated, her tone rising in pitch. "What happened, Doctor? Why are you bleeding?"

"Mild disagreement with some guards," the Doctor said, grimacing. "They didn't appreciate the fact that I was trying to control their defences. Ah well, can't please everybody."

"By mild disagreement he means we got into a fight," Joshua put in, following the Doctor down the stairs. His eyes were warm as he stared appreciatively at Clara, no words available in the English language to tell her how glad he was that nothing severe had happened.

The Doctor shrugged. "More of a scuffle." His hand brushed over his lip. Well and truly, crimson blood stained his fingertips. Clara stood on her tiptoes and placed a soft kiss to the opposite side of his cheek, trying to make it all better. It worked too; the Doctor grinned against the twinge in his lip, unable to hide his affection.

"I want to know everything. Tell me everything that happened."

"No, no, no," the Doctor said, shaking his head firmly. "You have to tell us what happened first."

Just for a moment, a flash of reminiscent fear crossed Clara's face – then it was gone, and she was back to being normal, casual, easy-going Clara. "Not much to tell. Two soldiers searched the place and didn't find anything. There was one moment, though, when I thought they near heard something or saw something – it turned out to be someone hiding illegal gems and doing a runner away from their house so the soldiers wouldn't find them."

Joshua then spoke briefly of the experience he had with the Doctor; careful to leave out some details because he knew he would just scare her, and that was the least he wanted. The Doctor could tell that Clara's hands were itching for cup of tea to hold, or some warm beverage to help calm her nerves. Every now and again she would glance at the Doctor's bruised face, eyes curved with clear guilt. The Doctor could practically feel her anxiety like heat escaping from a radiator.

Where did they go from here?

Joshua suggested they all go to watering hole, on the exact opposite side of town so they could each get cleaned up and maybe bring some water back to cook something extravagant for dinner. The Doctor was ready to protest with bringing Clara, but at the moment, even he wanted her around. Maybe leaving her trapped in the lair on her own hadn't been such a good idea. Perhaps he was better keeping an eye on her and actively protecting her rather than sheltering her from the world.

Joshua had a spare cloak for the Doctor so he could give Clara back the one he stole for her. It was when they were making their way back from the fountain and well that the Doctor saw it. And everything changed.

There was a black and white poster of Clara, with the caption: Agent Oswin – WANTED and underneath that, a pretty hefty reward fee for finding her.

But beside the poster of Oswin was a black and white pixelated poster of the Doctor. It was taken inside the castle, an action shot, with the hooded figure of Joshua just behind him. The description was smaller: "Nickname "the _Doctor_" thought to be in association with Agent Oswin."

Scariest of all, was the bolder caption: WANTED – DEAD OR ALIVE.

"Oh no," the Doctor muttered to himself. "Oh no, no, no, no, no."

It was as if, before this, the world around him was fuzzy with a tinted glow. The future was uncertain, not ready yet, still being painted by the paintbrush of a water-colourist. Now – now the strokes of paint had dried, unresolvable, the whole world clear and defined, the future stretching before them right into a broad, inescapable dead end. Before, hope glimmered like a bright candle in the dark, and now the candle was blown out, nothing but the smoke barely visible in the depth of darkness, spreading onwards forever. Time slowed around him; only a few seconds ago, all he could see was Clara, how she was brimming with life and suddenly she was dim, fading from sight as he held out his arms and reached for her, desperately wanting to get her back.

Of course, in reality, she was right beside him. Not for long.

Clara and Joshua had stopped beside the Doctor, both of them staring at the two posters like the Doctor, only they weren't frozen in position. Uneasiness rested in Clara's chest as she was once again reminded that _this_ was the reason why they were running. She was shocked to see the blurry picture of the Doctor beside her own, but not overly concerned – the Doctor was far too smart to be caught, far too quick-witted to be captured and fast enough the escape from underneath the very nose of the enemy. She really shouldn't worry. But the feeling was starting to creep upon her, slowly, especially as the Doctor remained speechless. It was the Doctor's current reaction that not only scared Clara, but also surprised her.

"They'll never catch you," she said, in an attempt to console him. "They really won't."

Oh, but it wasn't down to _him_ anymore. He glanced over at her, their line of vision slightly obscured by their cloaks, his gaze a beautiful combination of sweet adoration and deep, deep sadness. As if he pitied her.

"Oh, Clara. That's not what I'm worried about." He tapped the word 'DEAD' before grabbing her hand. "_That's_ what I'm worried about."

Clara looked from him, to the poster and back again. Her eyebrows pulled together and her lips opened a fraction. She didn't understand. He emitted a sigh; a heavy sigh, one that sounded as if it bared the weight of a thousand sorrows and sinking desires, of loneliness and solitude.

"Oswin's gone. She's not here. When you jumped into my timestream, you did it to save _all_ of me. Everywhere there was danger caused by the Great Intelligence, an echo of you followed. Your echoes lost their lives in the process of saving me. Thousands of you all dying, because of me."

Clara nodded; she knew this only too well. She was dealing with the repercussions of that decision up until recently. It was hardly something she would ever forget.

"Well," he continued, his expression changing to something she couldn't quite read, "The echo that saved me here, Oswin, has already done her job. But the process is still happening all around the universe. If I am going to die, you save me. By losing your own life. There's no echo here. There's only the real you."

Clara had already guessed as much. From the moment they landed and discovered the truth about Clara Agent Oswin, she knew that this was what the Doctor feared, what he was trying to change. Now she was looking at him in awe, not because he was being so honest, but because he was so petrified. It was oozing from him; he was more terrified than she'd ever seen. This was one a whole new level.

"You think because now Simeon is also looking for you, that something is going to happen to _you_ instead of me, and I'm going to jump in at the last minute again and…" she trailed off, unable to finish. What was the point? This was real, she had to face it. This was the pattern which now governed her life. "You think this is the time the real me dies."

It was one thing for Clara to think it, and another for the Doctor to actually believe this was what was about to happen. Her mind drifted, naturally, to her father, to her family; to all the people she would never see again, all the people who she owed a goodbye. What would she even say? What did it even matter? Her mind shifted suddenly, probably in an attempt to hide how much the truth hurt – but goodbyes were only words and words faded with time. Just like memories.

The Doctor's voice was faint in the background of her thoughts, as he explained, "No other echo is here to save me. We have something better – we have the real deal. The original, but it does the same job." He gripped her hand painfully tight. "Clara, I want you to promise me something."

She waited for him to ask before swearing she'd follow him to the ends of the earth and beyond.

"Since you saved me on that terrible day at Trenzalore, you're ending will always be the same. Me. Whether it's an echo or the real you, one day, it's inevitable, you will lose your life, like all of your other ones, because of me. I don't think there is anything I can do to change that. But you can."

Clara knew where this was going.

"No matter what happens today or tomorrow or the next day, I want you to promise me that _you will not save me_," he stressed the last words to show his sincerity. "Stop at a thousand. Let yourself live."

Before even thinking about it, or attempting to humour him, Clara shook her head. "No. The universe needs you, Doctor –"

"And _I_ need you."

His words lodged themselves into her heart. But now was not the time for sentimental words. Now was the time for brutal honesty. Her eyelids flickered as she felt his thumb brush against her fingers.

"And the universe needs me to save you. Who else will? Now you finally have someone to save you. I don't walk out on those I care about. I will never walk out on you, or the people I know you can save time and time again, like my dad or Angie or Artie. I know my responsibilities and I accept them. I save you who saves the universe. An indestructible team. But it's a team, Doctor. You have to play your role too; otherwise I've died a thousand times for nothing."

A perfect stalemate. How could the Doctor argue with that? Their shadowed faces were pointed at one another, their eyes meeting in a mutual satisfaction, each convinced of the other's loyalty, and yet each fighting to keep the other safe. Joshua hovered somewhere in the middle; his loyalty, admittedly, on the side of the Doctor while his heart, obviously, lay with Clara and keeping her protected from the danger of Simeon. The Great Intelligence had killed her thousands of times before, what was to stop him now?

It was a battle of who would go the furthest, who had already went further, and who was willing to change. Neither would back down, not when it came to the other. The Doctor had the shorter straw, and all three of them knew it. The Doctor, especially, knew that in the end it would not be down to them to decide who would survive. The damage was already done – from the moment he met Clara in the shape of a Dalek shell, the universe had decided for him. The universe had decided against his wishes.

He wasn't just fighting against the Great Intelligence to save Clara and himself. He was fighting against the order of the universe.

* * *

** Note: The next chapter (or the one after, depending on the detail I put in) will have a little surprise I think you'll all like… The whole poster thing will be explored more at the beginning of the next chapter, that's for sure. Then in about three chapters time you're all going to hate me. So right now, I'd appreciate some love in the shape of reviews, while you all still like me. Can we reach 80? Thanks for reading and all of your wonderful support! **


	13. Emotions of the Heart

** A/N: I nearly cried at the end of this chapter. I will say no more. Thank you all so much for reviewing! Reviews on this chapter would be especially great – can we reach 90? I hope you all enjoy; many of you have been expecting this.**

** Chapter Thirteen: Emotions of the Heart**

Clara, the Doctor and Joshua were all sitting around a steaming black iron pot, watching as the contents boiled away happily in a mixture of vegetables and thin strands of bacon that Joshua managed to steal on their way back to the lair. Clara's stomach was rumbling hungrily, echoing a painful emptiness which was only being spurred on by the delicious smell of cooking food. Each of them waited in silent eagerness, too consumed in their own hunger to even attempt to make some sort of conversation.

Joshua dipped in his wooden spoon and tasted the soup. Making sure it was hot enough and well cooked through, he gathered three small bowls and poured in a decent ladle of bacon and vegetable soup, handing one to the Doctor and Clara respectively before serving himself. The Doctor eyed his own bowl and then glanced at Clara's. With a look of complete innocence, he tapped her shoulder and gestured to the stairs behind them, nodding over to the direction without a word. Clara frowned, spoon halfway up to her mouth before flicking her head around to stare at the area he was pointing at. While her head was turned, the Doctor poured half of his own soup into the contents of her bowl, just in time for her to turn back around, glaring at him.

"What were you – oh," she said as she noticed her bowl was fuller than before. "Doctor! Stop giving me all of your food."

"Half of my food," he corrected instinctively. "I keep giving you half of my food."

Joshua sat back on his knees as he watched the two friends bicker. It was a small argument, one that you could only have with a very close friend, one only caused by knowing someone _too_ well and caring _too_ much. He observed how Clara's eyes would widen slightly every time she glanced at him and how the Doctor's smile creased in the corners of his mouth each time their eyes met. Between his twinkle and her enthusiasm, even a stranger or complete outsider could see how they both felt fiercely protective of one another. He didn't want to be the man to get in between these two. He had his chance with his own Clara and blew it; he let her slip through his fingers. All Joshua wanted now was for at least one Clara to be alive in the world, even if it did irritate him, somewhere deep inside his chest, that when he and the Doctor did eventually get Clara out of the town and back to Earth – to safety – that he would probably never see her again. Still, probably was better than a definite never.

It was just after Clara's last short snap that the Doctor looked over to Joshua with heavily-lidded eyes. When had Joshua and the Doctor been capable of silently communicating with each other? It felt as if Joshua had known the strange Time Lord all of his life. He seemed to have a strange effect on people, he realised, an inexplicable sense of wanting nothing more than to please him, impress him and to feel the tiniest bit of gratitude from him. The only other person Joshua had ever wanted approval from was Clara – not even his posh scientist mother and father could spark any interest in him.

Joshua refocused on his soup and returned the acknowledgement with a small nod. He heard Clara's spoon drop into her soup as she caught the small gesture between the two men.

"You're going to try tomorrow again, aren't you?" Clara demanded. When she received no answer, she gave a little sigh. "Why can't I just stay here and help? I know it's not ideal, but since you placed that shield in my mind, Doctor –"

"Clara, the longer you stay here, the greater the chance of losing you. It's safer for both of us if you're not here," the Doctor explained again, gently this time. "Then I only have to concentrate on saving myself, and I promise I'll do my best, yeah?"

Clara didn't say anything for a long moment. "Tomorrow… I'm coming with you. I'm not being stuck here on my own again."

Even Joshua was a surprised with how agreeable the Doctor was being.

"Yes, I agree. Leaving you alone down here was a mistake. You had nowhere to run." He scratched his cheek before leaning over to stroke her hair. "You can keep watch for us; close enough for us to see if anything happens but somewhere you won't attract attention."

"I think I have a slightly different plan that could work," Joshua put in, setting down his bowl.

The Doctor and Clara listened as Joshua explained this new idea of his – on the opposite side of town, near the fountain and well, was a weak spot in the gates. It had been there for as long as Joshua could remember, and since it had been there for so long, Joshua reckoned the electrical field would be weaker there as well. It wasn't large enough to get through, but if the Doctor could sonic the frequency of the temporal expandancy of the weakened electrons, then they may be able to weaken the entire structure on that side of the town. This meant when Joshua managed to break into the control room, he could turn off the electric field and keep it isolated in that area. The change in power would be barely noticeable, no one would be alerted, until a guard or solider noticed that the gates on that side of the town had lost their electricity. This gave the Doctor all the time he needed to get Clara out, and just maybe, it would leave that side of the gate open long enough for Vingols to send reinforcements.

If it worked, of course.

After the detailed discussion, everyone was exhausted after the long day they had. Joshua piled the dirty plates in the storage hole, bid the Doctor and Clara goodnight and traipsed off to his own secret section of the lair, feet dragging heavily across the dusty ground. The Doctor and Clara were left on their own, and simultaneously, grabbed the blankets Joshua had left them and sat down on the same spot as the night before. This time, however, they snuggled up against each other, in blissful content, as Clara rested her cheek over the Doctor's left heart and the Doctor listened to her breathing. Five full minutes of silence later, the Doctor thought Clara was asleep, until…

"Do you ever dream, Doctor?"

Clara felt him stiffen a little at her sudden question. His hand moved to her hair, and he resumed his habit of stroking individual strands.

"Of course I dream, Clara."

She raised her eyebrows and thought about this for a moment. She knew the Doctor was lonely, but apart from having company, what could a man with the entire world at his feet possibly want?

"What do you dream about?" she asked.

He took a long moment to answer as his hands still worked his way through her hair. "I dream about where I'm going…"

Clara gave a small soft laugh and looked up at him. His green hazel eyes were holding a glimmer of sadness, a glitter of hope. They contrasted evenly as they met her curious brown.

"But you're always wandering about," she said, patting his chest lightly.

"I dream about who I'm with," he added, so quickly that Clara had to pause to hear it, since the statement almost ran into his next question. "What do you dream about?"

Clara pulled herself up to sit beside him, shoulder against shoulder. His eyes followed her, even after she broke off the contact. Her features were so delicate in the candlelight; the reaction on her face, her expressions so typically _her_ that the Doctor's hearts swelled with joy.

"I still dream about travelling, but thanks to you, I'm doing that now" – she frowned, as if she didn't realise it before – "after Trenzalore, I don't know, I think I'm ready to move on from the Maitland's. I think they're ready to move on from me. I don't really know who moved on first, but I think it's time for a change. I'm okay with that."

The Doctor took one of her hands in both of his own and held onto it tightly. "It can be hard moving on, especially when you still care for someone and yet you know you've both outgrown each other. If things never end then new, better things can never begin."

Clara glanced left at him, in a half-state of sudden epiphany. "Yeah, you're right, Doctor. I did go to university hoping to be a teacher one day. Maybe I should follow that… dream."

She couldn't help but notice how his grip on her hand loosened and his eyes diverted to the opposite side of the room. His tone was flat, as well, when he said, "You'd make an excellent teacher, Clara. I couldn't blame you following your heart. Anyone would do it."

Sighing, with fake tiredness, Clara sat forward and grabbed the Doctor's face in both of her hands so that he couldn't avoid her eyes. Her thumbs stroked his cheeks and she shot him her most brilliant smile. "That doesn't mean I'm going to walk out on you. It just means I want to juggle both – a career _and_ space-time travelling with my alien mate. Okay?"

His eyes were now bright and shining, his mouth turned into a wide pearly white smile. "Hah! 'Course I knew that. We have so much more of the universe to see!"

"Us," Clara added, lowering her hands from his face. "Against the world."

The Doctor's hearts were fluttering irrationally, and for once, for once in his illogical complicated life, he followed the fluttering rhythm of his hearts instead of the taunting misgivings of his head. She was so beautiful to him in this moment; how her long fringe curtained her face, her eyes gloriously warm brown and holding silent promises which she would never say out loud, her perfect optimistic smile, longing for the future of which they spoke. This amazing impossible girl had captured his heart, and more than ever, he entrusted it in her care.

With a fleeting rush of heart and urgency in his chest, he leaned forward, his thumb stroked her cheek and his lips found the soft plumpness of her lips. He kissed her with a single kiss, gently, uncertain at first, but once he realised she wasn't pulling away, he increased the pressure, confirmed the impulsive action, her lip caught in both of his own.

That's all it took for Clara to respond. She placed both of her hands on his shoulders and pulled him closer. Taking the first action, she slid her lips against his, pressing soft slow kisses all over his mouth, enjoying the feeling of his hands gripping harder at her waist. There was no heat or quickening lust; it was soft, slow, and almost appreciative – not lacking passion, but containing a passion in a different form. Passion in a fierce, desperate and mutual desire – the desire only felt when you knew you were losing someone or something, and you were doing everything you could to deny it was happening, to fight against the oncoming loss. It felt more of a last kiss than a first.

Clara's heart constricted, painfully tight like a knot in a rope, as their kisses slowed to a stop. They were clinging to each other, as if they were the only secure things in the entire swirling, turning, churning, spinning, unbalanced universe. The Doctor's hands held her head as their eyes met and their lips broke contact – his mind flashed back to how he last held her like this, back at Trenzalore – and he pressed his forehead against her own. He could still feel her warmth on his lips and he wished he had the courage to do it all again, but this moment was different; in this moment they were looking forward to the future and dreading it at the same time. So much was left unsaid.

"Nothing will take you away from me, Clara," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. "I promise, _I promise_."

She nodded, her hands covering his. Her eyes were stinging and her lips felt heavy. "That's not what I'm worried about."

They both fell asleep that night, still clinging to one another, still needing each other, and both of them dreaming of the uncertain future.


	14. Captured Heart and Captured Soul

**A/N: The plan was to upload this yesterday, but I'm not very well at the minute and I kept falling asleep. So, if this chapter isn't up to standard it's because of the tonsillitis or whatever the doctor said. Thank you all so much for the love, some of those reviews nearly made me cry! Okay, so now you're all going to hate me. I'm expecting it. Let's go.**

** Chapter Fourteen: Captured Heart and Captured Soul**

Three cloaks, four hearts and some of the most wanted people in the whole of Asterix XII, hurried through the town, unseen like shadows in a shadowy land. Clara couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of guilt at the wreck of the town; the market place, only a few days previously, had been buzzing with energy and customers and now it was abandoned, with broken stalls and shattered produce after the search conducted by the soldiers. Hooded villagers stood around in small groups, shop owners, whose goods had not bared the brunt of the force since their shops were closer to the castle, were throwing out items they could no longer use while old men and women sat on the dusty ground, their homes destroyed in the raid from the day before.

Tension stirred in the air like a boiling pot ready to overflow. To Clara's awareness, there were foot soldiers parading around the town, stopping civilians at random and searching them on the spot. This didn't impress the Doctor, and he was bristling with nervous energy, one of his hands scrunched at his side while the other pulled along Clara. Joshua was leading the way, over to the fountain and well, expertly acting the part of an old man with a walking stick. At the halfway point through the town, Joshua knew it was his time to go – while the Doctor worked on the fence, Joshua was going to attempt to break into the castle, ready to manipulate the controls.

"Good luck," Joshua said to the couple, taking Clara's hand and graciously kissing it. The Doctor gave him a firm pat on the back.

"You too," called the Doctor as the man gave him a fond wave. Clara breathed in a large gulp of air as the reality of the situation started to kick in. Now that Joshua was gone, she was acutely aware of the amount of people around, the amount of people out to get all three of them, the amount of people who were now a danger.

The next person to be dropped off was Clara, and judging by the Doctor's small, slow steps, he was reluctant in leaving her alone. He had slowed down considerably now, and Clara couldn't help but worry what his lagging would do to Joshua, who would have to hang about the castle, without protection, waiting for the Doctor to do his job.

"Don't worry," she told him, warmly, "I'm going to be fine."

"Yeah," he said back, restricted, "you will be."

In their ideal plan, Clara would keep watch, travelling in a circle around the houses, keeping to the edges and remaining unseen. The Doctor thought it was best for Clara to stay on the move, because as they realised from the other day, remaining in the same place, in confinement, made you more vulnerable. He gave her strict instructions and a route which she _had_ to promise to stick to, and if he didn't see her passing the fountain once every half an hour, he would come looking for her.

As for Clara, she was happy about doing her part for the Doctor and Joshua, and she was more than relieved to be free from being stuck in the lair, but that didn't prevent the irritable nerves from clinging to her skin every time a passer-by chanced a glance at her.

The fountain was located a few metres in front of the well, which in turn, was placed directly in front of the weakened fence, providing the Doctor with a little shelter from onlookers. This part of town was pretty abandoned anyway, or at least, the Doctor kept reminding him of the tiniest factor to confirm in his own subconscious that this was going to go to plan. The fountain was Clara's drop off point, and now that they were walking towards it, Clara's hands started to get sweaty and a little bit shaky.

They paused for a few moments beside the water structure. The Doctor reminded Clara for the eleventh time of what route she would take, and that if she found anything suspicious, or was simply scared, she knew where to find him.

Just as she was about to walk off on her own, the Doctor did something completely unexpected. It was as if he didn't know what he was doing, either. His hand found the small of her back and he pulled her towards him, so their waists were flush together. He crouched over, his head hanging low towards hers, and before Clara could inhale a sharp breath, the Doctor captured Clara's lips with his own.

Clara, hurrying to keep up with the sudden action, kissed him back just as intensely. Her hands moved from his back to his neck, dragging him closer, and slowly edging open his mouth. Building up to a climax, their tongues brushed across one another, dancing along to a harmonious rhythm that only they could hear. This kiss was completely different from their first the night before; that one had been needed, it conveyed their underlying desire and regret and fear and protection, but this one – this one was hurried, as if it was trying to say something the Doctor could not. Whether he was more scared than what he was letting on, or he had a bad feeling about this whole situation in general, Clara couldn't be certain. It was urgent, like a fleeting thought, like a child who had finished eating sweets and decided to go back for one more. He was holding onto something which was vanishing, and when he thought he was ready to let it go last night, he knew, deep down, that he wasn't quite ready. He would never be ready. He wanted to get Clara out of here, and yet, he didn't want to let her go. He didn't want to be alone without her.

Before Clara pulled away, they stayed routed in position, lips firmly joined and hands finding the other's hands. Clara looked around, a sudden thought occurring to her as her mind drifted back to Joshua and how he had kissed her a few days previously.

"Wait, did my hood nearly fall down again? Was that a distraction?"

"No," the Doctor said, a little mischievously, his cheeks blushing a faint pink. "I just really wanted to do that. Sorry."

Clara stood on her tiptoes and pressed another quick kiss on the Doctor's lips. "Don't apologise for kissing me, Doctor. Don't ever apologise for that."

It was Clara who made the next move now. She, grudgingly, with a pain in her chest, let go of the Doctor's hands and stepped away. His eyes were soft with a silent beg, but he didn't stop her. His arms felt light and empty without her to fill them, and he wanted to feel the heat of her body against his as he hugged her. However, they had a duty to do and Clara was strong. Right now, he wished he could borrow some of her strength. It was like they were two magnets, and Clara couldn't help but attract the Doctor back to her, no matter how far she wandered.

"Be careful," she told him. Her voice cracking ever so slightly. "I'll see you in a few."

It's like they both knew, deep down, like a greater sense, what was going to happen.

"Clara. My Clara." He wanted to reach out and stroke her cheek, but he knew he would never let her go. "Stay safe."

It required a major amount of self control, on each of their part, for Clara to walk past him and for the Doctor to let her. Clara closed her eyes, tight, for the first few paces, wishing on every star she had ever seen that the Doctor would be safe. That nothing would happen to Joshua. That the three of them wouldn't be split up in some disastrous turn of events. As for the Doctor, he only had two thoughts: he had a job to do, and he had a life to protect. And he was prepared to go to the ends of the earth and back to protect that life.

* * *

The heavy wind was almost too strong for Clara as it picked up speed and resistance. She found herself wrapping one arm around her body to keep warm while the other maintained a firm grip on her hood. It was a weird experience, to say the least – walking around a place you knew for a fact everyone was out to get out, completely alone and surrounded by potential enemies. She kept her focus on the route she was supposed to take, and if her calculations were correct, then she was already halfway around the course, and should be within close proximity to the Doctor once more in around fifteen minutes. That gave Clara a little bit of hope.

The Doctor. Her mind was fuzzy, warm and a little bit muddled whenever she thought of him for too long. What had happened, recently, to bring about this sudden change? She'd noticed little things ever since Trenzalore, but to go from blushing at the mere mention of something implied, to outwardly kissing her in public was a rather dramatic change in one person. Not like she was complaining, far from it. He was taking over her mind with all his gentle touches and soft caresses.

It all happened so fast that Clara barely had any time to register the change in events.

For a brief, clumsy moment Clara's grip on her hood slackened as she tripped over a stray log from the man chopping wood outside his broken stall. The seller glared at her as she almost stumbled into the pyramid of logs he had set up beside his work. He flung down his axe and watched as Clara moved on, protecting his produce from any further damage. All of the stall-owners seemed rather hostile after the raid from the day before, understandably.

Clara felt her cheeks redden as the attention was turned on her. "Sorry," she murmured, ducking her head out of vision. That was when she registered a tickle of wind at the back of her neck. Her hood had slipped, only by an inch, but far enough for a lock of hair to escape. It fluttered in the breeze, and Clara's heart lurched. Her shaky hand hurriedly pushed it back as she took a step forward, wanting nothing more to escape from the scene, maybe venture to somewhere more abandoned, somewhere that –

A rough hand squeezed Clara's arm and trailed her back. She glanced down at it, eyes wide as the log-seller forced her to turn around.

"Show me your face," he barked.

No. It was only one little mistake. Only one.

But everyone here was on edge, pushed to their limits. They were scared and intimidated and prepared to do anything. Desperation made people alert. Desperation would kill her.

Clara pulled away from his hold. It just made him tighten his grip. Now other people were staring, the log-seller's apprentice was rising from his wooden chair. If she wasn't careful, a fight would quickly ensue.

"You don't know me," Clara muttered, her voice shaking. "I'm out on business, let me go."

No matter what she said, the man would not believe her. He saw the lock of hair, he recognised the colour. Her face was still hovering above the town on the big screen, posters holding the caption 'WANTED – ALIVE' with her supposed identity 'Agent Oswin' littering the walls on every building. Clara could feel the panic rising in her chest, and without really thinking, she used all her strength to push the man away and retract her arm.

The fist that flew through the air was faster than the brisk wind. It struck Clara under her hood, striking her cheek painfully. She buckled on her feet before losing her balance altogether. Her back was lying flat on the ground and a wheeze escaped her mouth. The cold iron taste of blood seeped from a split in her lip. But none of these things worried her.

Clara squinted against the bright day light, her face fully exposed. Her hood had fallen; her cloak was partially ripped from the fall and the chilly breeze was ruffling her hair. She was lying out in the open for everyone to see, and instead of seeing a human, a completely innocent girl, all they would smell was the scent of greed and all they could see was that handsome reward, practically offered on a plate in front of them.

Clara had barely took in the twist of events – her cheek was still sore from the strike, and she only had the chance to breathe in a single breath, when the apprentice boy was up on his feet and pointing, in an eager, manic manner, "But that's _her_! The one they want!"

And that was the quiet before the storm.

A streak of pure, adrenaline-induced fear flooded Clara's mind. She lurched forward, struggling to regain her balance and get to her feet – to run, to keep running, back to the Doctor, as far away from here as she could get. Yet, just as she made to move, in a flash of heartbeat, a pair of strong hands were hoisting her up, taking a hold of her, rooting her in position so she couldn't escape. Clara twisted and turned and struggled but it was no use. It was hopeless. They had captured her.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Where was her second chance? It was only one tiny mistake. This couldn't be happening.

The log seller grabbed Clara's head with one of his hands through her fruitless struggles. He held her face in place, absorbing every little detail he could see. "You're that Oswin girl, aren't you?" he spat. "You're the reason for all of this!"

In his anger, and in his might, and with all his strength, the log-seller punched Clara again, this time right in her stomach. She would've crumpled with the pain if it wasn't for the two people holding her upright.

"If it weren't for that blasted reward fee – I'd finish you off myself!"

The tears that sprung to Clara's eyes were glistening with a mixture of hurt and fear. _Pull yourself together_, the rational side told her. _Fear only makes this worse._ But the all-encompassing dread was sinking into her skin like the pouring rain and squeezing her lungs. Her chest felt heavy with the weight of what was to come, and her stomach, not only bruised, was swirling with numbing nerves, and worst of all a cruel longing.

A longing for the Doctor.

People were shouting, a flurry of movement surrounded them, and with it, Clara's heart battered against her chest. She flicked her head around, searching for an escape, _anything_ that could help her.

But the guards were already here. They had arrived. One of them shouted to his friend for back up, and when Clara glanced behind her shoulder, she could recognise three soldiers marching her way. She pulled again against the hands holding her, kicking and squirming and not giving in. There was a way out – she knew there was. This wasn't supposed to happen.

She was surrounded now. Well and truly cornered.

And, somehow, that made everything very clear.

Clara stopped struggling and stood tall and proud in the arms of her captors. She had no idea where the sudden resilience and resolution had come from; perhaps, it was the unavoidable optimism that radiated from the Doctor which was now passing onto her in his absence. Maybe the sudden epiphany was just a natural reaction because she knew – if she held on long enough and stayed strong – the Doctor _would_ find her. Eventually.

She had hope in the form of the Doctor. She had faith and confidence in herself.

Clara was expecting a struggle. There wasn't one. One of the soldiers came up from behind her and stuck a large, thin needle into her arm. She yelled out in protest, shocked at the sudden sting, but the damage was already done. Her eyes started to droop, and the energy faded from her limbs. Before the darkness closed around her, she could hear the guard arguing with the log-seller over the right price for the reward fee. As much as she tried to fight against it, Clara found she couldn't cling onto consciousness as it quickly fell away from her, and she too, fell into the clutches of the soldiers behind her, and straight into the angry clasp of the enemy.

* * *

**Note: So, umm… Reviews would be lovely and brighten me up a little. Please? **


	15. Stares and Storms

** A/N: I really can't write this kind of stuff well. Give me a romantic scene any day. Thank you for all of the reviews! You're all amazing, and I'll name you all next chapter since I'm really bad at replying to people. Warning: I tried to tone it down as much as I could, but this is a sensitive chapter.**

** Chapter Fifteen: Stares and Storms**

The room was dark. Everything was metal; the walls, the doors, the ceiling, the furniture. It was all very sterile. It didn't feel alive. The air was unusually cold and the smell – it was sharp and tangy, like the inside of biscuit tin. The main focus was in the centre of the room; a flat, hard table tilted in a forty-five degree angle stood tall and proud. On that table lay Clara, iron cuffs clamping her wrists and ankles to the board underneath. Locked in position. Her eyes were closed, her head leaning over to the left side, breathing even and calm. Like she was merely sleeping.

A large, triangular beam stuck out from the ceiling, pointing at the table, almost resembling the sting on a scorpion. Controls, full of different levers and complicated buttons, resided just beside the table, at the point directly behind Clara's head. The room was loaded with security measures – a thousand locks and pins on the door, camera's at every corner, a mixture of traditional and modern technology. Once again, everything in this planet was in between. Not quite, yet, nearly there.

Clara's eyelids started to flutter. Her head shifted and she grimaced at the sharp pain in her stiff neck. She registered the cold table beneath her, and the dark light stinging her eyes before the rush of recent events flooded back in a storm of memories. Clara jerked, the restraints holding her back, her heart pounding in her chest and echoing to her fingertips, as she glanced around the room, absorbing every little detail in a panic full of dread. How many hours had passed? How long had she been here?

It couldn't be long. There was no sign of the Doctor.

Dropping her head back against the metal, Clara closed her eyes and cringed. The fear in her stomach was consuming her, making it almost impossible for her to find a regular breathing pattern. _Stop, stop, stop_, she told herself, firmly. _You've got to calm down and remain strong. You can do this. Don't give in._ But she felt so alone, so vulnerable, literally no where to turn. This wasn't supposed to happen. The Doctor would be furious with her.

_Where was he?_

Clara could still feel the cold, tingly hand of fear tickling her spine when the door slid open with a _swish_. When she noticed the man sauntering towards her, in a cocky air of arrogance, all of her fear vanished. She felt quite numb, as if everything in the world had suddenly become simple. Fear meant hope, fear meant that events could go badly, but there was still a glimmer of resistance, of escaping that made her scared of the alternative. Now… the invading numbing dread restricted her options, made her almost certain that Joshua was right. No one would want to be in her shoes right now. Her future was mapped out and signed with her blood.

It had happened a thousand times before. Why would this time be any different?

The Great Intelligence, _President_ Simeon, was joined by two other people when he entered the room. Both were wearing long white coats. Everyone remained completely silent; one of the men vanished beyond her view, at a point directly behind her head, the other stood beside her right side. Simeon hovered on her left, small cold eyes drinking in the sight of her. With his hands behind his back, his lips pulled into a tight smile, smug and unbelievably contented.

Clara couldn't stop staring at him. That, right there, was her walking nightmare. The person who haunted her dreams and terrorised her nightmares ever since that dark day on Trenzalore; here he was, standing only inches away, his face long and cruel and bold. Clara found herself sinking into the metal desk, shivers rolling down her spine and a cold dread spreading over her skin.

The one man she feared more than anything in the universe.

And now she was completely alone with him.

"Nice of you to drop in on us, Oswin," his hollow voice rumbled, tinted with an element of sarcasm. "Or would you prefer for me to call you by your real name – _Clara_?"

Clara gulped, her throat hoarse and dry. How else could she play this? She had to act the part of Oswin. Not only would Simeon not believer her if she insisted otherwise, but right now, the information she supposedly had was the only thing keeping her alive.

She couldn't find any words. What could you say to the person who was going to be responsible for your death?

"I must admit," Simeon continued, in a louder, higher pitch, "I was surprised to be seeing you so soon. The best the Revolutionites have to offer… found within three days."

Clara mentally pulled herself together. She delved into her courage, her voice still partially lost in her throat, and rather uncomfortably, asked, "What do you want from me?"

Simeon gave an impassive shrug. "You know what I _need_ from you."

In a sudden, remarkably quick movement, Simeon leaned over her, his arms on either side of the table, his face millimetres from Clara's. His mouth was twisted into an angry frown, his eyes burning with fierce hate and fiery anger. "_You_ betrayed me. _You_ almost cost me my government. _You_. Did you think I was going to take that likely? Do you know what I've done to other people who have committed less?"

Clara blinked. Her heart raced in a flutter of palpitations. Beating out the seconds she had left to live.

"Do you know what they call me? Do you know my other name?" he pressed, hands turning to fists as they gripped the iron table.

Clara had no choice but to stare into his face. Her sweaty hands flexed within their restraints. "The Great Intelligence," she muttered, grudgingly, a spark of defiance lighting within her.

"Good," he spat. "Since you were quick to answer that question, you'll be quick to answer the others, I am sure."

He pulled away, tantalisingly slowly. Clara closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath as he turned his back to walk towards the unseen man in the white coat. She flinched when she heard his voice call out:

"I'm going to make you suffer. But first, I need that information. And you're going to give it to me."

He clicked his fingers.

The man beside her pulled out a large, thin, silver-tipped needle, filled to the brim with a clear, slightly tinted blue, liquid. Clara's eyes widened, her heart missed a few beats, as the technician rolled up the sleeve on her right arm, ready to push in the needle. Instinctively, she tried to move her arm, shimmy away from the threat, but there was no resisting the restraints. The last needle knocked her out, what would this one do? What was he injecting into her bloodstream? She felt like crying out, every single nerve shouting out in distress, but she bit her tongue, hard – any sign of weakness would just spur Simeon on.

The tip of the needle broke into her skin, and just as the liquid was pushed into her vein, Clara managed to find her voice. "What did you do?" she demanded, fear fuelling her strong, firm tone. She was thankful for that. "_Tell_ _me_!"

Simeon remained quiet. When it was clear he wouldn't respond, the technician spoke for him, pulling out the needle in swift and clean movement. As if he had plenty of experience.

"It's a shot of adrenaline," he said, his tone flat like he was reading from an instructions leaflet. "We don't want you falling unconscious, do we?"

The Great Intelligence wandered over to her again. He looked down at her, oozing superiority, but Clara could swear she saw his lip twitch as he struggled to hide an ice cold smile.

"Why would I fall unconscious?" Clara could feel her heart pumping in her throat and angry tears burn her eyes. Was she shaking? She felt as if her hands were shaking. The suspense was worse than anything – the not knowing what they were about to do. Everyone in the room was so calm; could they not see this was inhuman? Did they not care? The fleeting thought of a soulless monster scared her more than anything.

No one answered her. No one was even looking at her now – the technician was fiddling with her restraints and Simeon was staring at the triangular beam on the ceiling.

They decided to give her a demonstration.

"Now!" the Great Intelligence shouted.

His eyes, full of cold fire, locked on hers just before it happened. Warm, blazing brown met icy, empty silver.

"Not enough to kill her," he reminded.

There was a flash of light and a strangled cry.

And then all Clara knew was pain.

* * *

Only fifteen minutes had passed when the Doctor's hearts raced to a dramatic stop.

He was tinkering with the fence, his sonic not reacting well with the electric field, when the blue haze over the black bars completely vanished. He sat back, eyebrows pulled together and mouth slightly open, pondering over what had just happened. Did it work? No, no – he wasn't making any progress. How could he take down the electric field so quickly when the sonic wouldn't even aim in the right direction?

The Doctor sat up, squinted, and peered around. He jumped to his feet and roamed the area, following the black bars, and slowly coming to a rather frightening conclusion.

The electric field was down all over the town.

That led to two possibilities: within fifteen minutes, Joshua had single-handedly broken into the castle and dropped the entire electric field. Or, within fifteen minutes, Clara had –

The Doctor ran. As fast as he could possibly go. He ran to the centre of the town, mind completely blank and stomach clenching with terror. Gut-wrenching, unnerving, guilty terror.

Civilians were all gathered round, staring at the guards leaving their posts. Some were chatting, gossiping, throwing about words like 'caught' and 'captured' and 'castle.'

The screen on the castle, holding the face of Agent Oswin, turned to a dull, dead black. Clara's face had vanished.

And that was when the Doctor's racing hearts confirmed his worst fears.

They had Clara.

They'd captured Clara.

Clara was in their hands.

Along with the grey clouds holding promises of lightning, rumbling across the clear sky, another storm was approaching.

The oncoming storm.

* * *

** Note: Please review, and tell me what you thought. I absolutely love hearing from you all. I'll definitely be updating before Christmas, if you want the next chapter by then, that is! **


	16. Relentless

** A/N: The warning from the previous chapter is extended to this one. I just love angry Doctor – especially Matt Smith's take on it! There's something unbelievably sexy about him when he faces someone head to head. Thank you ****_so_**** much for the amount of reviews, it was brilliant! It would make my Christmas if you all kept it up. A massive thank you and merry Christmas to everyone who reviewed last chapter: ThePotterDoctor, NoLongerAGuest (thank you! Just got my voice back yesterday), Guest, Emilyalx (such a lovely compliment, thank you!), sesshomarugirl4ever, fabercastel (thanks, I worked hard on it!), DesiringMagic, Guest, Guest (aww thank you), Guest, Bad Wolf and Timelords, Doctor Who Fan, NeverMessWithTeddyBears, ImpossibleClara9 and Guest. To anyone else who reviewed previously – you're ****_amazing_****.**

** Chapter Sixteen: Relentless**

It felt like a scorching iron burning every inch of her body. The electric pulses snaked up her arms, so hot they felt cold, lashing like whips across her skin. A deep, hollow pain throbbed from her stomach, directly where the laser beam hit each time. It travelled through every muscle, every nerve, shooting like a bullet. Clara barely had time to get over one laser beam before another one hit.

They were relentless.

When she felt the dark haze calling her, the unconscious calming of the mind, she was about to sink into it, into solace, but every single time, another shot of adrenaline was injected into her. She was forced to face the pain.

"Where are the scrolls? What did you do with them?" the Great Intelligence snarled. His patience was waning thin, that much was clear. He had asked the same two questions five times already: Where are the scrolls? What happened to the rest of the Revolutionites? His temper was starting to control him, no matter how he tried to tone it down.

The hair at the back of Clara's neck was damp with sweat. Her hands were still trembling, although no longer out of fear. She shook her head once more, her voice cracking as she repeated, "_No_."

Another flash of light. Clara's heart was starting to slow, beats loosely stumbling into a rhythm, with every strike of lightning. But there was something else – something in her mind felt like it was tearing, ripping the surface of a well-protected shield. She didn't have the energy to shout out in protest any longer. Life was draining from her.

Clara was fully aware of what has happening to her. What with the administrated adrenaline, she had no comfort in blissful oblivion. It felt like it would never end. This was her future, nothing else.

At the beginning, she wished for the Doctor. She hoped against hope for him. She cried for him – he was all she could think of. Now was a different story. Right now, in her utter despair, she wished for something she could never have: she wished for her mother.

And that hurt more than anything they could ever throw at her.

"Where are the Revolutionites? What are they planning? Tell us and it will all be over."

But her mother was gone. The Doctor still hadn't shown up. She had no chance of escaping. Yet, she would never let them break her.

"_No_," she wheezed out.

Clara winced, readying herself for the next shot.

There was a pause.

Simeon was breathing rather heavily, his hands white as they gripped onto the sides of the table. His eyes were alight with untamed fury. He stood up straight and looked at the technician operating the controls.

In a calm, contained tone, he asked, "Do we have anything stronger?"

* * *

Joshua was standing, frozen, in the middle of the courtyard, staring up at the blank screen. He spun around, hood falling to his shoulders, and as if he knew by instinct – there was the Doctor, a few metres behind, glaring up at the sky.

He looked absolutely broken.

His shoulders were slumped, his eyes were teary, and his sonic screwdriver was by his side, held loosely in his hand.

With long strides, breathing heavy, Joshua walked over to him. By the time Joshua was standing directly in front of the defeated Time Lord, he had gone through a complete transformation.

Joshua flinched.

The Doctor redirected his vision from the sky and his gaze landed on Joshua. His lips were pressed into a tight, firm line, every muscle in his face turned to stone, his jaw was set and his eyes were blazing.

Blazing with the uncontrollable anger of a Time Lord.

"What do we do?" asked Joshua, his voice trembling with a mixture of panic and tingling infuriation.

The Doctor lifted his forefinger and pointed at Joshua, raising it to his nose and shaking it aimlessly. Very slowly, because he was trying very hard to not steam over, he punctuated, "We-get-her-_back_." There was a pause. His forehead creased and he turned on the spot. "And we stop _Simeon_ once and for all."

Simmering. That's what the Doctor would call it as he marched off, his feet heavy and stomping. His anger was simmering. Bubbling. It would only take one thing to tip him over the edge – and like a waterfall, his force would be relentless.

One relentless force against another relentless force.

But there was something underneath the anger, something fuelling it like petrol on a fire. Fear. The fear of losing Clara. It was flooding over him. He had to blink a few times, his eyes clouding over with stinging tears.

The sky overhead was turning dark, the clouds swirling in masses of silver, sending shadows over the entire town. They lingered over Simeon's castle, almost completely suspending it into unforgiving darkness.

Now that the electric field was down, the Doctor had access to his TARDIS, and that made him almost unstoppable. Joshua fell into a stride beside him, edging him cautious glances, holding just as much steely determination.

In a shimmer of bright blue, the invisible TARDIS revealed itself as they approached. Without any signal or instruction, the door swung open, inviting them in. Joshua stared in awe at the shining interior, lit with blue and orange light, unbelievably impressed by the Doctor's machine. He had heard stories about the Doctor's TARDIS but it was one thing hearing about a ship that was bigger on the inside, with all the technology you could ever want, to actually walking up the main console, buttons and lights flashing as if they were communicating with the Doctor, and the central beam glowing an enigmatic aqua.

It was absolutely magical.

But the Doctor was on a mission. He had no time to listen to Joshua's gush of excitement. He slid around the computer screen so that Joshua could see it too – the screensaver was showing some weird circular patterns, flashing from dark purple to navy blue. A loud hum and a sharp beep sounded from somewhere deep within the machine. The Doctor sighed, his hands flying into the air. "I know, I know, I know, I know," he practically shouted, irritated. "But what else can I do, eh? Now please – just _help_ me."

Joshua knew the Doctor wasn't talking to him. He frowned and took a step forward, peered at the screen and started to search for a sign the Doctor was talking into a communications device. How else could he be talking to someone unseen?

"Thank you. Thank you, _thank_ _you_. And I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap."

The Doctor looked over to Joshua, the corner of his mouth pulling down. He gestured to the main console and informed, "Sorry, I was talking to the TARDIS."

Raising his eyebrows, Joshua nodded. "You really are in a co-dependent relationship with a TARIDS," he muttered under his breath.

Whether the Doctor was too distracted to hear him, or heard and didn't feel like responding, Joshua wasn't sure. He stood and watched, feeling rather useless, as the Doctor whizzed about and pushed buttons, occasionally slapping the flat screen.

"I'm hacking into the security mainframe of the castle to find the location of Clara."

Joshua nodded again. "Right, okay. Do you have a plan?"

The Doctor shot him a stern glance before turning back to his screen. "For Clara, of course I have a plan. It's a very simple plan."

"What is it?" Joshua prompted.

He didn't need to see the Doctor's face to know it was firmly set and scowling. "Destroy Simeon's government. Every last single one of them. The Revolutionites will be back in power within the day. The town – this planet – will be back to normal. No tyranny."

"And Simeon himself?"

The Doctor stopped what he was doing and stared at the ground. "That depends on… on…" His hard exterior broke for a fraction of a second. He whipped out his sonic and pointed it at the screen. Quietly, he said, "The TARDIS is locked onto Clara. She's searching the castle for her. Hopefully we can see where –"

The screen started to muddle and fizzle, crackling into focus like a television trying to obtain signal from an aerial. Joshua jumped beside the Doctor, who had forgotten entirely what he was about to say. The Doctor's hearts were squeezed tight with apprehension, and he could feel the TARDIS tugging at his mind about something, but he tapped the screen once more, feeling almost sick with anxiety.

The TARDIS had hacked into a CCTV security camera, he could tell that straight away.

The image it was transferring was frightening.

A darkened room. The angle of the camera pointing directly towards the action. Simeon was standing, his back towards the camera, his hands clasping tightly around his back and his feet spread apart. Demanding. Intimidating.

And there was Clara.

Restrained on the table. Tears streaming down her face. Skin pale, lips white. Shaking.

Someone, a little insignificant man, was injecting something into her arm. There was a flash of light and crackling energy hit Clara's middle.

With both of his hands holding onto the main console, the Doctor bowed his head and leaned over, eyes tightly closed and ragged breaths escaping his mouth.

There was no sound accompanied with the picture. The TARDIS had muted it.

But the Doctor could still hear Clara inside his head.

Joshua couldn't move. He couldn't even blink. He was staring at the screen, lips slightly parted, and his reaction strangely numb. He knew – he knew what happened to Revolutionites wanted by the government. Vingols had told him, with quite a description, of what had happened to Oren Jacob – his teenage friend – who was found in a neighbouring town. But he never expected to _see_ it for himself– for it to be Clara. Either of the Clara's.

He had to tear his gaze away from the screen and look to the Doctor for support.

The Doctor's entire body was trembling as he hid his face from view. His kind hazel eyes darted back up to the screen, and as it once again confirmed his worst fears, an unexpected and terrifying roar resonated from his throat.

He spun around in rage, sonic screwdriver still tight in his hand, and he threw the device across the room with such force that it bounced off the far wall and rolled underneath the central panel. He paced the extent of the control room, heavy steps clanging against the metal as he pulled at his own hair. He came to a stop, abruptly, slammed down on an orange button blinking yellow and watched as the image vanished from the screen.

He met Joshua's reluctant stare, his eyes strangely soft and vulnerable for someone so angry. "Contact Vingols!" he yelled, breathlessly. "Tell him I want an army! I want an uprising, right in the town, right _now_!"

Joshua stuttered, still shaken after what he had just seen. "What about – what about Clara?"

"Oh, don't worry about Clara!" the Doctor said loudly, dramatically, blazing with insight. "No one should be worried about Clara! Simeon on the other hand" – the Doctor's eyes dropped and his tone lowered significantly – "a storm cloud is hovering over the castle. The Great Intelligence should beware: because it's not going to rain, oh no. It's going to pour."

* * *

_You lift my heart up when the rest of me is down_

_You, you enchant me even when you're not around_

_If there, there are boundaries_

_I will try to knock them down_

_I'm latching on_

_Now I know what I have found_

_(Kodaline/Latch/In A Perfect World)_

* * *

** Note: The Doctor is going to get seriously dark in the confrontation next chapter. I wanted to stop it here so that it wasn't too lengthy due to my habit of ranting. Merry Christmas, everyone! The next update will probably be Boxing Day – I'll see what I can do. Hope you enjoyed!**


	17. Let This Go

** A/N: What did you all think of the Christmas special? To be honest, I thought the Doctor treated Clara very badly for most of it. Some good parts, too though. This chapter isn't written very well, but I promised to update today so sorry about that! A massive, spinny hug to everyone who reviewed last time round: NeverMessWithTeddyBears (like dark Doctor? You might just love this), G-4rce (you're a babe, and oh, plenty of practice!), NoLongerAGuest (you're right – it's only the first round!), ImpossibleClara9, Kariana Kusanagi, Pir8grl, Guest, v, ThePotterDoctor, Guest, DesiringMagic, Doctor Who Fan, Oswaldforthewin (flattery works a charm on me) and Guest. You are all amazing, and I'm not just saying that. Hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

** Chapter Seventeen: Let This Go**

The Doctor was agitated. Quite frankly, if Joshua hadn't been so concerned himself, he would've given the Doctor a good shaking. He was pacing again, up and down outside of the TARDIS, bristling with ferocity.

Joshua knew why, of course. He was feeling exactly the same. With each passing second, Clara was continuing to suffer, mercilessly at the hands of the Great Intelligence.

If only Vingols would _hurry up._

Joshua had explained to Vingols what had happened – limiting the details on Clara to as little as possible. The Doctor couldn't speak, he was still too angry. Now all they were doing was waiting for the confirmation from Vingols on when the arranged army would reach their town.

It was raining, lashing down with ice cold droplets. The sky was completely darkened with clouds. The Doctor's stomping footsteps splashed puddles into the air, soaking his trousers through. It was like the rest of the world was non-existent to him – there was only Clara, danger and getting her back.

He _had_ to get her back.

"That's it!" the Doctor announced in a sudden shout. "I'm going ahead! I'm not waiting any longer, do you hear? You can come if you like, but I – am – _going_!"

Joshua's wet hair whipped around as he turned, slapping him in the face. "Wait up!"

The doors closed behind Joshua automatically as he stepped back into the TARDIS. The Doctor's hands were shaking, noticeably, while he slammed down on the levers and roughly pressed buttons, flicked switches and generally kept himself busy. Joshua watched without saying anything. He had briefly told him what the plan was going to be – once again it was simple. Storm the castle using the TARDIS, get Clara back and with the help of Vingols's army, bring down the entire government.

It _sounded_ simple enough.

Now it was just putting it into action they had to worry about. Or rather, Joshua had to worry about.

The Doctor's mind was elsewhere.

* * *

Simeon was staring expectedly at the technician, waiting for an answer. A sufficient answer. One that would please him.

Clara thought her heart couldn't sink any lower. His words echoed in her muddled mind: _do you have anything stronger?_ She felt like sobbing, curling up into herself and crying endlessly. She couldn't, she couldn't even snatch a moment's rest, a moment of weakness. Everything was moving so quickly.

"Yes, sir, of course we do," answered the assistant, glancing at the other technician in the room. "But, sir, I'm afraid that if we use such things – to put it bluntly, the subject is already weak, the effects of the nano-resusitide wavegun are taking its toll on the body. Anything stronger, and I'm certain, she'll be killed instantly. Other test subjects who were in perfect health, perished after only two or three rounds."

This made Clara feel physically sick. Not only were they doing this to her – _torturing_ her – but they talked at ease about testing different weapons on other people. As if life didn't matter, as if life had no value. How they referred to her, as well; the _subject_. She was a living, breathing person with a life, a family, a history, with dreams and hopes and fears. What kind of people _were_ they?

"With respect, sir," added the man on Clara's right, the man sticking countless injections into her arm. "It's not the technology that is the problem. The technology cannot force a subject to answer. It's the subject which is the problem."

"Do you not think I know that?!" snapped Simeon, yelling at the top of his lungs. He pointed a perfectly straight finger at the triangular beam on the ceiling, jabbing it with force. "Put the laser up to full force! Do it, _now_! I don't care if she's hanging onto her life by _inches_ – she will answer my questions, and if she doesn't, I expect you two to find a way to bring her back so we can do it all over again!"

Clara bit her tongue and stared at the ceiling. Her cheeks were streaked with drying tears, but right now, right in that moment, she made a silent promise to never cry at Simeon ever again. She could get through this, she had to, and she was strong enough. She found a small glimmer of satisfaction knowing that if Simeon did kill her, then he'd live knowing that she had won. She had died with the information. Surely that was worth something.

He could control the technology, but she wouldn't let him control her.

She didn't realise that Simeon was silently staring at her, eyes narrowed and a weird, almost pondering, expression filling his features. "I wonder, Oswin, how you would feel if we did this to your comrades at your expense. Joshua Thompson, or how about that new one of yours… the Doctor. Isn't that what you call him?"

A spark of renewed fear lit up Clara's exhausted mind. Why did he decide to bring this up now? Did he know something? Had the Doctor been found?

Just in case he was bluffing, Clara tried to act impassive. When she was about to respond, Simeon barged in and took over her sentence. "Do you not fear for your life, Oswin?"

"No, not any more than usual," she whispered. Her voice was raspy and dry.

"But do you fear for his?"

Clara glared up at him as she licked her split lip, subconsciously checking the extent of the damage. "He has nothing to do with this. He should be left alone," she told him, surprising even herself at how level her voice was.

"Tell me," Simeon said, loudly, towering over her again, "is he the same Doctor written about in those scrolls you stole from me? Is that why you stole them, Oswin, is that why you chose to take those ones over all the others?"

What could she say to that? It was the truth. He was guessing correctly.

Clara took a deep breath.

"All you should know is that I will protect him for as long as I live." Her voice cracked, but it didn't matter. Her eyes were watering, but no tears fell.

Words. She was good with words. That was one battle she would always win.

Simeon leaned further into her so that their faces were once more only inches apart. "And what's so impressive about him?"

BANG!

The room was thrown into darkness. Inescapable, unnerving darkness. Thick as oil, as evasive as fog. For a brief scary moment Clara thought something had happened to her and not to the environment. She gasped and struggled against the restraints, eyes wide as she tried to search around the room. What was happening?

There was a small part of Clara that hated the dark.

Then –

A green, emerald green light, shining through the shadowy threshold of the open door. Clara instantly recognised the colour, but no – it was too good to be true –

"Impressive?"

There was a spark of electrics from somewhere behind Clara's head.

Her heart was battering now, racing through her dreams.

"I'll show you what's impressive!"

A small spotlight, directly above the operating table, broke through the darkness. It was pale, almost grey in colour, and obscured Clara's immediate vision.

But there he was.

Knight in shining tweed and bowtie.

Her Doctor.

She felt numerous emotions at once – fear, pure dread, the fact that he was here meant he was in danger, because of her. All three of them were in the one place, and that wasn't good at all. Secondly, there was relief. She couldn't help it; she thought this was the end. Even if it was for a brief moment, she was able to see him again. Weirdly, there was another feeling, one which she was slightly embarrassed to admit. Shame. She didn't want him to see her like this – all weak and scared and crying. She probably looked pathetic. Clara wanted the Doctor to see her strong and brave and everything else he claimed she was.

Not like any of it mattered. He wasn't even paying the slightest bit of attention to her.

Joshua was holding the technician controlling the laser with a stolen weapon pointed into his back. The other technician was standing perfectly still beside Clara, watching as the Doctor advanced towards them.

He had eyes for no one but Simeon.

"Simeon!" the Doctor announced, sounding as if he was meeting with an old acquaintance. "I thought we'd drop by. Drop into the party. What difference would two more players make, eh?"

The Great Intelligence was standing in his typical stance; hands behind his back, face cold and emotionless, and eyes peering down his nose. His back was now towards Clara, who was watching intently.

"Ah, you're the Doctor, aren't you?"

"Some people call me that, yes," he said. He pointed his finger towards the length of Simeon's body. "But you, _Simeon_, you don't call me that. Oh no."

Simeon's mouth twitched. "Oh and why is that?"

"I make people better, or I like to think I do." The Doctor stopped his advance, his glance switching for a brief moment over to Joshua. "But I'm going to make _you_ a whole lot worse."

It was chilling, how he said it like he was commenting on the weather.

"What am I to you? Humour me," Simeon said.

"A friend I met quite recently. Well, if you consider a friend someone who turns all of your successes into defeats. And that's what you're doing here, in Asterix XII. More than once."

Simeon was now absorbed in this conversation. He stayed where he was, firmly rooted beside Clara. His eyes flicked over to Joshua, gun pointed into the man's back, and then they rested on the free technician, waiting blankly for instructions. The Doctor watched his every move, analysing his every reaction. Something was different about him.

"Doctor, I think you're mistaken. We have only met. How can I be responsible for all which you claim when we have only met?"

"Ah, that's where it's interesting you see." In the dim, grey light the Doctor's eyes hardened. "_We_ have only met, yes. This version of you. I'm talking about the original you, of course. But you, _President_ Simeon, you've done something much the same. Something unforgiveable."

The Doctor took a single step forward. "You almost made me break my sonic screwdriver."

The Great Intelligence frowned. He had no idea what this man was saying to him. All he was concerned about was how they had broken into the castle, and what the hell he meant: they had met before? When? How?

Once again, Simeon shared a look with the technician on the other side of Clara.

"Whatever you're thinking about, _don't_," called Joshua, digging the gun with more force into the technician's back. "We've taken over this entire floor. You have no back up. We've lowered your defences. You've got no where to run."

That was when the Doctor flew across the room.

It was with such speed, such grace, such precision, that Clara flinched at the sudden turn of events. The Doctor pounced at Simeon, leapt across the room, and grabbed him by the front of his jacket before hurling him into the wall. The man buckled, head slamming against the metal and falling to the floor. The Doctor pulled him up his feet, kicked him in the stomach and clasped his hand into his hair so that they were eye to eye. It must've hurt – it would pain any human – but Simeon refused to show any emotion. His eyes were cold and expressionless as they met the Doctor's ferocious hazel green – the contrast almost frightening.

This man really had no conscience. No soul.

As for the Doctor, he had too much.

"No where to run, Great Intelligence," the Doctor hissed through gritted teeth. Specks of spit hit Simeon in the face. "How do _you_ like it, eh? You prefer torturing innocent girls within an inch of their life, don't you? Making them scream until they run out tears."

The Doctor could've sworn a flash of a smile crossed Simeon's lips. He crushed the man in his hands against the wall again, wanting to see some kind of fear, some kind of pain that he had caused Clara. He found nothing. His rage was boiling in his veins, making his thoughts swirl and spiral out of control as he let the power of his position loom over the man before him. Oh, what he would do if he knew Clara wasn't listening. She was the only person in this moment keeping him from doing something he'd later regret.

Or would he regret it? He wasn't sure right now.

"Doctor?"

Joshua's concerned tone made him turn around.

The technician beside Clara was holding a long silver scalpel. Against Clara's throat. Joshua had one of his arms loosely around the other man's neck, while his free one holding the weapon pointed across the room.

They were locked in a stalemate. If Joshua shot his gun, the technician would use the knife. If the technician used the knife, Joshua would shoot them both. As for the technicians, no matter what they did, Simeon would blame them. They were replaceable. It only took one wrong move for an irreversible consequence in return.

But it was the perfect moment for the man in Joshua's clasp to reach out towards the control and slam down on one of the buttons.

The wrong button.

The triangular laser beam slowly lit up with yellow energy. Clara's eyes widened as she recognised what was happening.

"NO!"

Clara fought against the urge to cry out in pain as a long string of light shot from the wavegun and washed over her entire body. Joshua shot his weapon at the man in his grasp. A red flash and the man crumpled to the floor, unmoving. He spun around as the other technician ran towards him, knife pointed his way. Joshua ducked and the man fell over his back, landing awkwardly on the ground. Joshua, mercilessly, shot him in the stomach.

For the first time since entering the room, the Doctor stared at Clara. The pulsing energy was making her spasm, twist and contort against the bonds holding her. It was a brief moment of distraction, but Simeon used it to his advantage. He swung an arm through the air and struck the Doctor's stomach with his fist. The Doctor fell backwards, sprawling onto the floor on his bum. Simeon made to move towards the control box but the Doctor was back on his feet and dragging him backwards. All he could see when he looked at this man was greed, all he could feel was hatred, all he could hear was Clara's screams echoing in his ears because of _him_.

No, hold on. The screaming was real.

"Joshua!" the Doctor shouted, dodging one of Simeon's flying fists. "Turn it off! _Turn it off_!"

But Joshua was already slamming down on random buttons, the yellow light from the laser brightening up the room but distracting his boggled mind. He couldn't get these _damn_ controls to work. How did they work?!

"I'm trying!" yelled Joshua, angrily. "I thought the laser lost power when we killed the electricity supply!"

Surprisingly, it was Simeon who answered. "It's a nano-resusitide wavegun, do you really think it would run on electricity?" he sneered, wiping away the blood from his cheek at the Doctor's punch.

This human Simeon was truly an echo of the original. He was just as selfish, just as self-preserving, but a lot more human in action. As human as he could be, anyway. He wasn't afraid to fight with his fists or use the coward card to get out. Perhaps this echo was more similar to the real, once living, Simeon from Victorian London. Before the Great Intelligence had stolen his face.

"You know you want to save her, Doctor," Simeon said, as he and the Doctor circled one another. "Fight me and you risk precious time."

It wasn't a decision really. More of an annoyance because he was right. He could hear Clara –

Grudgingly, and inwardly promising to get him back as soon as Clara was safe, the Doctor let a few swear words escape his mouth before turning towards the control panel Joshua was struggling to fix.

And the Great Intelligence ran away, into the darkness of the open threshold.

The Doctor knew he had to be quick. Simeon would be running to get back up and he wanted to be gone by the time he returned.

His heart was aching and his fury was raging, but he blocked it all out. He roughly pushed Joshua out of the way, whipped out his sonic and started to scan the panel. Joshua wasn't in the best mood, either. "You let him get away! Doctor, what the hell were you thinking?"

"You couldn't control this stupid thing!" the Doctor bellowed, cheeks red as his emotion flared. "_I_ am going after him. _I_ am getting him back. As soon as I – as soon as I…"

The laser was still shocking Clara. His anger was draining to fear. To concern. Clara would always be his number one priority.

The technician had locked the on-switch to resistance mode. The Doctor soniced the switch, reversed the action of the locking button and with a large spark and sizzle, the controls for the laser were rendered useless.

They only had a few minutes to get away.

But the Doctor hesitated. Clara was completely still now; he could just make out her hair falling over the side of the metal table. She wasn't moving.

The Doctor's nails broke into the skin on his palm as he forced himself to walk over to her, Joshua slowly following not far behind.


	18. Under My Protection

** A/N: Okay, from this moment, I think we're about three quarters of the way through. By the way, if anyone is interested you can follow me on Tumblr at farflunghopesanddreams! This chapter is quite, predictably, sad. I love writing sad – if you can make a reader cry, then you know you've captured their heart. Russell and Moffat use very different techniques for breaking their audience's heart. I think I prefer RTD's. A big hug to everyone who reviewed last time around: Guest (I pushed myself to update today due to your urgency!), NeverMessWithTeddyBears (I'm glad you like Joshua! He's very vivid in my mind. I think the whole Amy is Clara's grandmother is nonsense. The BBC are on a budget, of course they're going to reuse a diamond ring! I agree as well!), ImpossibleClara9, Nightwalker, Guest (you're adorable, I know how it feels to wait for updates on a fic you really like, so that's a massive compliment), DesiringMagic, Guest, tardis-tea-time, v, ThePotterDoctor, NoLongerAGuest, Whouffl and runyoucleverboy-remember. Amazing lot.**

** Chapter Eighteen: Under My Protection**

He felt like he was facing a Dalek.

No, it was worse than that. Facing a Dalek fleet with no protection or escape route would be easier than this. He would feel braver.

Nothing could scare him more than seeing Clara, lying still on the cold metal table, her skin layered with a thin dusting of sweat, and so pale, terribly pale. The Doctor stood, rather awkwardly, in exactly the same spot the Great Intelligence lingered only a few minutes before. He looked down at her, head tilted, with his eyes round and unblinking. He couldn't touch her – he was scared she was as icy as the table. He couldn't say her name – in case she didn't respond. What if she couldn't respond?

It was Joshua, in the end, who started to undo Clara's restraints. The Doctor was useless.

And that was the perfect truth. Wasn't it?

None of this should've happened in the first place. It was his fault Clara was captured; he was too foolish to let her wander off on her own. He was to blame for taking them here. It was only because of him the Great Intelligence kept killing her over and over again in the first place.

Now, here she was. Lifeless on that sterile table. Despite how the Doctor noticed her chest shallowly rising and falling, he was still afraid that it would suddenly stop.

_ What difference would it make?_ The Doctor said to himself, bitterly. _She's going to stop breathing one day because of me._

The Doctor didn't move a single inch until Joshua released the last bond keeping Clara in place and she started to slide off the table. Instinctively, he rushed to catch her. He swept her up into his arms, making sure she was in a comfy position before hoisting her further into his grasp. He cradled her head against his chest and peered down into her face, discretely calculating the damage.

_Oh Clara, wake up._

Joshua was running about on nervous energy, the Doctor could tell that much. As they started to head for the door and dark corridor beyond where they had parked the TARDIS, Joshua's wrist device started to flash and ring. He slammed his palm on the answer button while continuing to circle the Doctor – more importantly Clara – from all corners of attack. His voice cracked as he said, "Vingols?"

"We're ready when you are, Thompson."

"Ah," Joshua grimaced as he pushed open the TARDIS door to let the Doctor through. Was that footsteps he could hear? "We're already in the castle. But we're on our way out. Can we meet you in five?"

"Fifteen," corrected the Doctor.

Vingols didn't sound best pleased. "You – I swear, if you've cost us this operation! Reckless, Joshua, utterly reckless since you've lost Clara. Barging in without a plan, trying to bribe people for information – if she was here, what would she say, hm? Sometimes I wonder if she was the only reason you lasted this long. Lost all of your sense."

Joshua glanced towards the unconscious Clara lying in the Doctor's arms. He slammed the TARDIS door closed a little harsher than he was supposed to. "Yeah," he said, lowly, as he pushed the buttons and twirled the controls while the Doctor silently gestured. The TARDIS began to dematerialise, just in time, as the Doctor noted on the scanner. Joshua took a brief moment to catch his breath. "I completely agree, for once, Vingols. You could say she's still helping me, though." He looked expectedly over to the Doctor, but he was now turning his back to walk down a corridor. "Fifteen minutes, Vingols, we'll meet you in fifteen. We have things to do first."

"You're going to hold off an army for fifteen minutes?" Vingols heaved a sigh. "I hope it's important."

Why was his commander being so understanding all of a sudden? It was almost as if he felt sorry for Joshua. For some reason, that made Joshua sadly annoyed. "Impossibly important," he snapped, clicking off the communicator.

Joshua felt a little lonely as he traipsed down the corridor the Doctor disappeared into – he wasn't sure he knew the way, but he had a feeling the Doctor's ship with a personality was helping him along. He stopped at a room, the door half open behind a private compartment. Joshua stuck his head around the door, to see it was indeed the Doctor, in some sort of medical room.

Joshua took a moment before declaring himself. The Doctor nodded but didn't turn round; he was fiddling with some controls on a computer screen beside the bed. Joshua's gaze landed on Clara, who looked a lot more restful than before, and he found he couldn't look away. Was that a golden tint he could see around the bed? What was the Doctor doing?

"Is this helping?" he asked, not a clue what he was even referring to.

The Doctor sighed and spun around. His hands gripped onto the side of Clara's bed as he looked up at Joshua. "There's not much I can do, Joshua. The laser didn't do much physical damage, it was all internal. There's nothing I can _fix_, exactly. I think I'd feel better if there was something I could heal with all my fancy equipment, you know? It's all down to Clara."

Joshua gave a small smile and a half shrug. "Are you actually complaining?"

"It's her mind," the Doctor said, flatly, the relief not spreading to him just yet. "Her mind was in a delicate place before this happened, despite the shield I placed in her subconscious. I'm worried about how… _it_ affected her. We won't know until she wakes up. Then I can help the best I can. If I can. I will. I will."

He was talking to himself, Joshua was sure of it. He had to reassure himself that he was the Doctor, the man who could make anyone better. Especially those closest to him. Otherwise, what was the point?

"Even if she is okay…" the Doctor trailed off, his eyes glazing over. "I couldn't blame her for wanting to leave. That's the way it would be with us, the way it would always be. One day she's going to have enough and leave me."

Joshua didn't know what to say, what could he say? If he was being completely honest, he thought the Doctor was being rather selfish. Joshua had already lost Clara, he knew what it felt like, and he had lived through it. Yes, the Doctor was upset after what Simeon did, but here he was almost taking the time they had together for granted. If Joshua had've known what would happen, if someone had taken him back to experience it all over again, he wouldn't take one second, not one extra breath or extra touch for granted. Instead of moaning about how little time he feared they had, he should be enjoying the time he was guaranteed. It was more than what Joshua had. And as that thought, Joshua felt a streak of envy and irritation. The Doctor didn't realise what was in front of him.

"You stay here with Clara; I'll keep Vingols amused while you're busy," said Joshua, stiffly, turning on his heel.

The Doctor seemed to know what he meant by that. "Thank you."

Joshua stopped at the sliding door. He didn't look around, his head hanging low as he stared at the ground with sparkling eyes. "Doctor, just remember what you have. Not what you're going to lose. You can only fly so high with tied wings. Once you hit the ground again, you'll always wonder what the clouds felt like."

A wise person once told him that. A dreamer.

The Doctor blinked to relieve his watery eyes once he heard Joshua close the door behind him. His entire calm and collected exterior faded away within a second. With slow tears falling from his eyelashes, the Doctor brushed Clara's hair out of her face and rested his hand on top of her head. "What would I do without you Clara, eh? My impossible girl."

The Doctor slid onto the side of her bed and wrapped a loose arm around her body. He stared down at her, at her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. She was starting to regain some colour in her cheeks and her hands had stopped shaking. At the moment, the Doctor was more than thankful for any small improvement.

"Do you know why I call you that?" the Doctor asked. Most of their meaningful conversations seemed to be one sided these days. That didn't make them any less meaningful or truthful. Not on the Doctor's part. "Probably not," he decided for himself. He started to stroke individual strands of her hair, realising it probably soothed him more than it would her. "Just because the mystery is gone, doesn't mean the story is solved! We're all stories, Clara. Yours is a bit bigger than most, I have to admit." He contemplated this, his lips pulling down in each corner, almost disbelievingly. "Your last page is out there, too… somewhere. Waiting for you, waiting for both of us." Shaking his head, the Doctor tightened his grip on her. "But this is _not_ your last scene. What I'm saying, at this exact moment, isn't written on your final page. I imagine this would be a cliff hanger, at the end of chapter two – in a book over one hundred chapters long."

The Doctor paused, stared into the distance and dreamt about that hopeful possibility. He could almost taste it, almost smell it, but touch it… No, it was out of reach. Just beyond his grasp, beyond his control. His eyes held the glitter of an unreasonable resolution, as he said, in a low tone, "At least, that's what I have to tell myself. Otherwise I would have to leave you. Oh, the look you'd give me right now if you were awake." He gave a soft chuckle and glanced down at her again. At her closed eyes. "But, I would, Clara, I would have to leave you. I'm dangerous, you know that now, and most of all – I'm selfish. I would cling onto you until there's no life left… and then, finally realise, that if had've just let you go, you'd probably still be here. Writing another chapter. Singing another verse." He scrunched up his nose and shook his head. "Actually, no, forget I said singing. You're a terrible singer."

He sighed and turned his head to the side to stare at the monitor screen. He looked without really looking, and he found himself focusing on the far wall, lost in his own memories. "To save you, Clara Oswald, I would do anything. If that means leaving you, as much as it hurts me, then that's what I'd do. I will not be responsible for your last page. It would destroy me, I know it would. Time can be rewritten, it can change, but other things are more permanent. Like thoughts and feelings and long glances shared over a chocolate milkshake on a rooftop – no one can take them away. They make us who we are; we all begin as a blank canvas, and as we live and as we experience living, colours and shades are added to the surface. Some are vibrant oils and others are watercolours. Through time, some finer details can be overshadowed and forgotten. Others can be erased completely through a dramatic turn of events, like water spilling onto the canvas."

The Doctor rested his cheek on top of Clara's head. His tears had stopped running, but now his hearts were aching. "For a while, Clara, a large section of my painting was ruined. A flood of water washed away all that it was before. But then you came along. Brilliant red and oh, so beautiful. You revived my painting – you've changed it from a colourless canvas into something sparkling with life and creativity."

He pressed a light, delicate kiss into her hair. He smiled. "And that's why you're impossible. I still don't understand you. I don't think I ever will. How can you make me feel like all I need, in the entire universe, is right here, beside me? How?" Now his thoughts wondered to Joshua and their current situation. He would have to leave soon. He had a job to do, as much as he just wanted to snuggle up beside Clara and keep an eye on her until he knew she was completely safe.

"So you're going to get better. We're going to keep travelling, saving, exploring, learning, painting and writing. While we can. While we're still young, and I use that term loosely on my part."

The Doctor stared at her face once more, drinking it in, as he readied himself to face the army. To face the Great Intelligence. Softly, he told her, "I'm right here, Clara. I promise. For as long as you need me. I promise I won't ever abandon you if I have the choice. Never ever. I will always have the _intention_ of coming back. As long as I have my TARDIS, I swear it. You have my word."

It was a strong promise, full to the brim with good intentions. But it was already overflowing due to the uneven ground it was delivered on – here he was, saying how he would leave her to save her life, yet promising never to abandon her while he was leaving for a war.

Perhaps, in the end, good intentions and the uncertain future would combine and level out to create a flat surface.

It was good to dream. Especially in watercolour.

* * *

** Note: Symbolism, everyone loves symbolism, right? Next chapter it's back to the action. Reviews would be amazing, please! If you're super good I'll post the next chapter before the New Year. Thanks everyone! **


	19. Revolutions and Reunions

** A/N: You's guys are too generous with your compliments. There's not much Clara in this chapter, sorry about that, but to make up for it – lots of dark Doctor! Thank you, thank you, thank you, that's some of the most reviews I've had so far: Pir8grl, DesiringMagic (Iloveyoumore), ThePotterDoctor (I haven't watched that episode since it aired, I have to rewatch!), Guest (it makes my day when you review), Guest, Whouffle, Bad Wolf and Timelords, Son of Whitebread, hi (I love you too), NeverMessWithTeddyBears, Guest, cookiemonster (I love hearing reviews, never be afraid!), carolinakia (you're too kind), ImpossibleClara9 (no, you're awesome), 11DoctorWhoFan10, Guest and TheDreamingTraveler (I one hundred per cent agree with you, this fic hasn't been very kind to the character of Clara and I am conscious of it; first her mind was in turmoil and now this whole thing, so it's been hard to get across her feistiness. That is going to change within the next two chapters, so look out for it. Glad you like it though!)**

** Chapter Nineteen: Revolutions and Reunions**

There was quite a scene, when the Doctor walked outside his TARDIS to find an army of around one hundred men, all standing in formation. The town was just in the distance, the outline just noticeable on the horizon. Far enough to avoid immediate attention but close enough to attack. Vingols had obviously been planning this for quite some time. He was only waiting for someone, like the Doctor, to kick start it into action.

If Hartley was still here, this problem would have been handled differently. The Doctor couldn't help but miss her as he walked across to the arguing men.

Yes, that's right, Joshua and Vingols were arguing in the middle of the army, at the top of their lungs.

"It's lucky we're over a mile away from the town and Simeon!" the Doctor called. "Otherwise, he'd hear us before he'd see us!"

Vingols spun around so quickly he almost fell over. Joshua took a step backwards, head hanging low and shoulders collapsed inwards. Whatever they were arguing about, it was clearly exhausting Joshua to the point of exasperation.

Vingols was a small man with a hooked nose. The Doctor always thought he looked a little like a sparrow. He was a man anyone could underestimate at first glances, and then, once you knew him for five minutes, he intimidated even the fiercest of people. Hartley, with the impeccable judgement she had, was cautious of Vingols, but could see potential in his thinking. Surrounded by men with hot tempers, Vingols was the only one who would even attempt to take an equal view. Hartley was a peace-loving humanitarian, and Vingols was an even mixture of revolutionary and reasonable. That was why the Doctor found him unpredictable and impulsive.

"Doctor! What a – what a –"

"Misery," the Doctor answered, frowning as the short man tried to salute. "What a misery, Vingols, I hoped I had seen the last of this planet. And I mean that with the greatest affection possible. But Hartley – _poor_ Hartley, not to mention the absolute tyranny of Simeon! I expected better, Vingols, I expected better."

Vingols gaped, his eyes lighting up with rebellion. "It's not _my_ fault, Doctor!"

"No, it's not your fault, but I'm in a bad mood and I have no one else to shout at or blame. So you'll have to do." The Doctor stopped directly in front of him, hands behind his back and chin jutted out in disapproval. "I'm sorry to hear about Hartley. You know how much I liked her. She deserved better."

Vingols blinked. He skimmed over the subject, choosing to ignore it; he said instead, "You look younger."

"Well I'm not."

"How's your friend? It's terrible when innocent people get dragged into –"

"I'm a different man than I was," the Doctor interrupted, almost coldly. "You realise that this is me, giving into my last option. You're not to kill anyone, do you understand? Not soldiers and certainly not civilians. We are doing this to regain control over the main camp, not to take revenge on Simeon."

He was silent for two long beats, his eyes narrowing at the Doctor and he lifted his hooked nose into the air, as if to give himself more height. "This is not your army, Doctor. This is _my_ army. They do as I say, no one else. _I_ want your help, your advice, your insightful intelligence."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "You want me to lead while you give the commands, I see."

Any other time, any other situation, and the Doctor would down-right refuse to be used like this. But he needed Vingols's army just as much as Vingols needed him. Through his inner conflict, the Doctor realised he didn't have much choice. He couldn't just leave the planet like this, and he certainly could let Simeon away with what he was doing. Clara was safe, that's all that mattered. When it came down to it, the Doctor couldn't control the actions of others. He could only hope that he dealt with Simeon quick enough to make this war as short as possible. It was down to him.

The Doctor's gaze flicked over to Joshua – the only person he truly trusted right now – to see him looking back at him, full of bristling anger. Joshua roughly brushed his long brown hair with his hand before it turned into an angry fist by his side. What was that all about?

"Joshua?" the Doctor asked, calmly. "What's wrong?"

Vingols answered for him. "Oh, he's being unreasonable!"

"Well, everyone's unreasonable depending on how you look at a situation, but that didn't really help my question, did it?" the Doctor snapped. "Joshua, what's wrong?"

Joshua thrust his arm into the air to point at a young man the Doctor hadn't noticed until now. He was around about the same height as Joshua, if not only a few centimetres shorter, with wavy dark brown hair, flicked to the side in a fashionable quiff. He had a handsome foolish innocence about him, as if he was acting older than what he was, and his iron blue eyes were identical to Joshua's, although slightly rounder with thicker eyelashes. The Doctor noticed the resemblance almost immediately – he was the image of Joshua, but a little younger, and with shorter hair.

"_That_ is my brother," Joshua practically snarled to his friend.

The young man smirked. "Oh, please. Give me a proper introduction. I couldn't stand it if people only knew me because of you."

"My brother who should not be here," Joshua added forcefully, shooting an irritated glare at his brother.

"Cailin," he said, smiling pleasantly. "My name is Cailin. Although, all my friends call me Cay."

Joshua scoffed, "Don't be ridiculous, you don't have any friends."

"Says the guy who spends all of his time moping about a girl who's long since gone," Cailin shot back in a hiss.

The two men glared at one another, one full of defiance, the other angered with worry. In a rather sudden, flip of events, Joshua wrapped his arm around Cailin's head and pushed it against his chest. Cailin responded almost immediately, hugging his brother tightly around the waist. Joshua met the Doctor's gaze as he patted his brother's back, and the Doctor could read him like a book – _I don't want him mixed up in all this._

"Cailin's a fine soldier, Joshua," Vingols informed the older man. "He's the essence of you when you were his age."

"That doesn't make me happy," Joshua said, aiming it at Cailin. "I was the rebellious one; you were always the science-y one. I was the disappointment, remember?"

Cailin shook his head and broke apart from his brother. "I felt like everything changed when you and Clara took up the secret service. Suddenly my priorities shifted. In the scale of things."

Vingols stood beside the Doctor, his head barely reaching the top of his shoulder. He gestured to the men and women around him, and asked, "Are we ready? What's your mission?"

He knew Vingols would have no idea what he was talking about, but he confessed his true plan, anyway. "This echo of Simeon, even though he is a human, is primarily still living of pure information. It's a shell with the Great Intelligence inside. He thinks he's a human. There's a reason why he sticks to his castle: he wouldn't survive without it. All that technology, all that _information_ – he'd cease to exist. Our target is the castle. Get your elite team together, take over the stronghold, leave it up to Joshua and I to do the rest. The rest of your Revolutionites – make sure no guard or soldier reaches the castle. Protect it. Fight for the town. The rest is up to you."

"I'm going to trust you, Doctor, despite your obvious change in tactics." Vingols shot him a sideways glance, full of trepidation and just the slightest bit of caution. "What if it doesn't work?"

"It _will_ work. I don't doubt my brilliance, Vingols, not now. Not today. Not in the circumstances."

Vingols was a man to question everything: but as he had learnt from Hartley, there was no questioning the Doctor. He took a deep breath and reminded himself of how the Doctor's previous strategies had worked a charm. If there was anyone in the entire world who could help him right now, it was the Doctor.

"Right," said the Revolutionite leader with a lack of emphasis. "Let's get going."

* * *

The Doctor held his breath as he and Joshua turned another corridor.

So far they had searched two levels of the castle. Still no sign of Simeon. It was relatively empty, which made the Doctor more than a little cautious of what exactly was happening. Everything was going to plan, so far, and the Doctor had moved the TARDIS closer to the town, just in case they needed to make a quick escape.

That was when Joshua suggested they split up.

Vingols had given them an elite team of five soldiers – one was Cailin, at Joshua's insistence. The Doctor agreed; they could cover more ground if they split up, and it seemed to be relatively safe at the moment. The Doctor instructed three Revolutionites to follow Joshua, while he took two; a blonde man and a ginger woman. He didn't bother asking their names, this wasn't a very intimate task. They'd soon be out of here.

The Doctor watched as Joshua took the right turn before taking the left. They crept along the metal strip of floor, their footsteps lightly tapping like rain against a glass window. He signalled for his two partners to stop outside a room which looked locked. The Doctor eyed the palm-activator, something itched his subconscious as he focused on it, and without even being asked, the two soldiers raised their guns and pointed them at the threshold.

The Doctor pressed his hand against the cold button.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Bullets, blazing bronze bullets, flew through the air like leaves in an autumn storm, firing from all directions, impossible to detect from which direction they were coming from. The Doctor reached for his two partners, only a few seconds too late, with the intention of throwing them to the ground. But his hands grasped at thin air. A few seconds was all it took. The blonde man was sprawled at his feet, two red stains seeping through his uniform. The woman was lying on her side, gun still clutched in her hand, eyes closed with a bullet wound on her shoulder. As if the world has suddenly switched to horrifying slow motion, the Doctor peeled his eyes away from his fallen, nameless, allies and stared into the room.

There was the Great Intelligence, standing behind an army of ten guards. All of their guns were pointed at the Doctor, but not one seemed to have the intention of shooting. Yet.

Before, there had been a flame in the Doctor's chest, burning with pure fury and hatred for the man who had put Clara through hell.

Now, it was a raging forest fire. Unstoppable. Untameable. Dangerous.

"Oh, Simeon," the Doctor said in a restricted whisper. "You're walking on very treacherous water."

Simeon, hands clasped behind his back and silky smirk on his lips, started to walk around his shield of men. "Says the man with a dozen guns directed at his heart."

"Lucky I have two," he retorted, taking a few steps further into the room.

Having heard the disruption from the second corridor, Joshua ran flat out to get back to the Doctor. Cailin and his two comrades trailed behind, unable to match his speed, shouting loudly at him to slow down, to think, but Joshua was too scared to listen. His heart was racing faster than he was, and all he could see were the terrifying images appearing in his mind – the shots, the Doctor, what would he say to Clara is he'd been too late to save him? It was all a blur, a rush, a fleeing concern.

When he skid into the bottom of the corridor, the first thing he saw was the Doctor's two soldiers lying on the ground. The first thing he heard was the Doctor and Simeon, shouting at one another. The first thing he did was slowly walk up, signalling for Cailin to stay where he was.

Joshua steadied his gun.

He stopped, straight in his tracks, when the ginger woman, who a moment ago appeared completely still, jerked to support herself on her elbows and fired three whole shots into the room. More than one person fired back, and that was when Joshua took his chances. He ran up to the threshold, eyes quickly taking in the scene – the Doctor surrounded by guns, too many guns, Simeon up in his face.

"Joshua, run!" the Doctor bellowed, spinning around and waving his arms. "_Run_!"

Joshua jumped to the side, narrowly missing a new round of bullets rushing towards him. He stuttered for a moment, not quite sure what to do – he checked the ginger woman, not wanting to leave anyone behind, but the amount of blood on the ground was enough to give him an answer. There was no other obvious option; Joshua couldn't get the Doctor out with only three men, not against that many guards. Swearing, loudly, he fled the way he came, more bullets missing him by inches as he escaped from the corridor. He grabbed Cailin by the scruff of his shirt and hauled him forward – alerted now to the loud footsteps clanging against the metal floor. They were being followed.

Simeon pushed through the guards and lunged at the Doctor. He grabbed the Time Lord by his waist coat and punched him, roughly, across the face. The Doctor held his own, but two guards held him back before he could react. _Joshua will get out,_ the Doctor told himself. _He'll make sure the TARDIS keeps Clara safe. He'll call for back up._

"Now, Doctor," the Great Intelligence sneered, his icy eyes locking onto his warm hazel. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right this instant."

* * *

** Note: This took me all day to write. I'm still not happy with it, but oh well. It was a hard chapter for some reason. Reviews would make it all worth while, and I know how good you all are at reviewing! It makes my day. I hope you had a happy 2013 (mine was busy, between A-Levels, leaving school and starting university) and have a wonderful New Year! Thank you! **


	20. Returning the Favour

** A/N: Sorry for waiting a bit longer for this one! I needed a few days off from writing to get my head around this part of the plot. Spinny hugs all around for my lovely reviewers: ThePotterDoctor, whouffle to the max, ImpossibleClara9, Guest, 11DoctorWhoFan10 (he locked her in the TARDIS to keep her safe while he led the revolution, sorry should've explained that better!), DesiringMagic, TheImpossibleParadox (you are seriously amazing, I love you. I hope you liked the book!), FanfictionintheTARDIS and NeverMessWithTeddyBears. This is one of those in-between chapters, but can anyone tell what's happening to Clara?**

** Chapter Twenty: Returning the Favour**

It took Clara a little longer than usual to wake up from her deep sleep. As soon as she started wondering why, the memories kicked in. She lurched forward on the bed in a state of panic. Her blurry eyes focused on the room around her, almost apprehensively, scared at what she would find; it was white, warm, soft and friendly. The steely cold table had been replaced with a cushioned hospital bed covered with snuggly blankets. This most certainly was not the Great Intelligence's castle.

A wave of dizziness flooded Clara's head. She had to hold it in her hands to stop herself from fainting. Relief, pure heart-warming relief, rushed over her, and her chest burned with joy. Was she crying? She felt like she could cry from the sudden change of emotions her last functioning memories were giving her.

Quite predictably, her mind drifted to the Doctor. Where was he? Probably somewhere else in the TARDIS, presuming this was the TARDIS – he'd be back soon. She let loose a soft sigh and sat back against the pillows, staring curiously at the monitor beeping to her right. But she found she couldn't rest, her nerves were still high from the shock of it all, which was just now leaking into her subconscious. Worried at the sinking feeling overcoming her, Clara chose to focus on anything she could other than what had happened. Panicking and fear would not help anyone, especially not herself, so she had to push past it.

Sitting forward again, Clara noticed two things: one, there was a golden glow surrounding her bed, and two, her limbs and muscles were unbelievably sore. A deep throbbing pain pulsed far within her, somewhere implacable to her fingers, and she had a banging headache to match. She stared down at her bare arms; her sleeves rolled back, and frowned at the marks on her skin. Red licks of colour patterned her forearms; gradually fading the further they travelled, similar to shapes of crisscrossed lightning rays. Her mind, rather numbly, made the quick connection between the marks and the lightning-like light Simeon used against her. Before her conscious could linger, she moved on, her fingers brushing against the pale pink irritation on her wrists caused by the restraints. Feeling her stomach drop, Clara decided not to continue this search on her body.

There were footsteps now, hurried footsteps, coming in her direction, or so it sounded. The Doctor? Clara wasn't sure how she felt about this thought – she wanted his comfort, his arms wrapped around her body to tell her she was truly safe, but on the other hand, she didn't feel ready for company. She hated sympathy, for people to see her weak, and she couldn't completely guarantee that right now she was in any state to put on a show of casual ease. Her mind felt slightly muddled, the shock was starting to creep up on her at a worrying rate, despite how she pushed it back, and she had the distinct feeling of an impending breakdown of emotion.

Now she could hear voices.

"Joshua, I don't understand – how can she be…?"

"Something happened a while back – I don't know, it's all complicated – but different versions of her, all around the universe and throughout time, but all still _Clara_. Like our Clara. You'll see."

That was definitely Joshua and another man she didn't know. _But what about the Doctor?_

When they barged into her room, she could immediately tell something was wrong. Joshua had a flustered, not quite sure what to do or say, look in his eye as his gaze rested on her. He rushed over, his hands hovering over her hands, like he wanted to touch but was afraid of hurting or scaring her. "Clara! Are you alright? How do you feel? Are you in pain? Where does it hurt?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she lied, not wanting to reply 'everywhere.' "Where's the Doctor?"

Suddenly, a handsome man, around her age, was up in her face, inspecting her like an object on display. "But, Joshua – that _is_ Clara!"

Joshua flicked his hair out of his eyes, gave a heavy sigh and pushed his brother out of the way. "Get out of her face, you twat!"

"Joshua," Clara pressed, her heart starting to pick up speed.

Clearly wanting to avoid the conversation for a while yet, Joshua directed a finger towards his brother. "Clara this is –"

"I know Cailin when I see him," Clara interrupted. "Now where's the Doctor?"

All three of them fell quiet. Clara blinked and glanced down to her blankets while her hand touched the side of her head. It started to bang again, more subtle this time, but still making its way to the forefront of her thoughts. Joshua was staring at her as if she'd just pronounced she was pregnant; with a mixture of fear and curiosity in his eyes.

"How do you… How do you know Cailin?"

Clara stuttered. She glanced quickly from Joshua to his brother, unsure of what the honest answer was. "I don't – I don't know him, I… I don't know where that came from."

Joshua rested a careful hand on her shoulder. He stroked her hair, as he asked, "Clara, what's wrong?"

"There's nothing wrong with me." She was getting defensive. But who was she trying to convince? Herself of Joshua? She moved his hand from her hair and held onto it tightly. "Now, where's the Doctor?"

Joshua knew it was a lie, of course he did – he was even surprised to see she was awake. The way she gripped his hand was for comfort as she beseeched him to tell her the truth. He hated that he had to deliver the news at all. He knew he had to tell her, he knew she would never forgive him if he went ahead and acted without her. Despite her current state.

Also, when it came to Clara, she always had Joshua wrapped around her little finger.

"Something went wrong," he blurted out. "The Doctor decided to use an army against Simeon, but as we were storming the castle he got caught. It's a warzone out there. Simeon's guard are fighting back."

Clara started to shimmy to the edge of the bed. Joshua grabbed her upper arm, ready to argue, but his eyes landed on the unforgiving red lashes on her skin. He paused for a split second, not knowing how to react, and in that moment Clara jumped off the bed. She had to cling onto the side of the frame as her heavy head rushed and her vision blurred – probably due to the sudden movement and her sore limbs, that was all. Her breathing felt laboured, and she tilted her head to the side so that her hair would cover her face as she regained her strength.

"This is going to be dangerous," Cailin started, eyeing his brother with a hint of trepidation.

_ What's wrong with dangerous?_ A voice echoed in Clara's mind in a suspiciously similar tone to her own.

"Are you sure she's strong enough? She doesn't look too good," continued Cailin.

Clara stood up straight, though her muscles screamed in protest, and shot a reluctant glare at the man she seemed to recognise but knew she didn't know. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't say _she_ while _she's_ in the room. And you'd look pretty awful too if you'd just been –"

The words stuck in her mouth. She shook her head as she moved away from the bed with shaky legs. She walked straight over to Joshua, stared up at him, directly meeting his eyes. They were shining with concern and a little bit of hurried panic. "You know, Joshua, you know I have to. Why would you come here if you expected me just to sit back and do nothing? I have to help. I will _never_ leave him."

Joshua nodded. "I know."

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss into Clara's hair. She graciously accepted it, clinging onto any small gesture of hope. She hated – no, despised – the knowledge of the Doctor alone under the Great Intelligence's control. As much as she was scared of having to see him again, she knew there was no other option. Not when it came to the Doctor.

_ It always comes down to the three of us_, Clara thought to herself. _It will always end the same way_.

But will it?

The tables had turned, ever so slightly. This time it was different. Now Clara analysed it further – things _were_ different. The Great Intelligence was after _her_, not the Doctor. He had captured _her_, not the Doctor. _She_ had been at his mercy, not the Doctor. The Doctor had saved her from the Great Intelligence and now –

What if the roles were reversed? What if this was the time the Doctor died saving her from Simeon, and not Clara dying to save the Doctor?

Everything had been pointing in that direction all along. Why hadn't she seen it before?

She was the original Clara. Would she really follow the path of her echoes?

No, no. No, she couldn't let that happen. The Doctor couldn't die for her – no, he couldn't. It wasn't right. _She_ was supposed to save him. Clara's heart thumped, painfully weighty, against her chest, in her head, in the tips of her fingers. She would _not_ let the Doctor regenerate because of her.

Unable to voice any of these concerns – because if she did, that might make them truer – Clara looked to Joshua for help. "What do we do, Joshua? What can I do?"

Joshua stroked the side of her face with his forefinger. He glanced from Cailin to Clara, resting his gaze on the spot just above Clara's wrist.

"I've got half a plan. But I promise you, Clara, I promise, if it's the last thing I do, I will help you get the Doctor back."

* * *

The Doctor was standing in a loose circle of perched guns. He should be nervous, apprehensive, possibly even terrified – but he was relieved. Simply relieved. Clara was safe and hopefully recovering. Joshua would most likely make it out and back to the TARDIS. Now all he had to do was get himself out.

A lot less stressful than worrying about Clara.

To be honest, he was more concerned about keeping the untameable anger from taking over his entire senses.

He couldn't even look at Simeon.

"Doctor, I'm going to make you an offer. An offer I know you will refuse. But I don't want you to get me wrong, because I am a very reasonable man… I'll let you go, no strings attached, if you give me back Agent Oswin. After all, it's her I really want. Not you."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows and gave a low chuckle. He glanced up at Simeon, and as soon as he did, a wave of renewed fury overtook him. He ran forward, pressing right up against the point of two guns and stared at the shell of a man with pure hatred. "You will not lay one more finger on her, I swear it."

Simeon grinned, a calculated, manipulative smirk. "Oh, will I not? I guarantee I will. I want answers. Answers only she can give me and until she does –"

"The scrolls are gone, Simeon," the Doctor snapped. "She doesn't have them. She destroyed them before you caught her."

Something flashed across Simeon's cold eyes. Some icier than the coldest day. "Then she's dead."

The words felt like a bullet to the Doctor's chest.

"But how do I know you're telling the truth?" he hissed, stepping up to the back of the two guards the Doctor was pressed against. They were only inches apart now. The Doctor was finding it very hard to not lunge forward and do something he might regret. Might.

"I'm the person she trusts most in the world," the Doctor said in a whisper. "And I trust her with the entire universe. You wouldn't understand that would you? Trust. It's something beyond your knowledge and _intelligence_. How does that feel, Simeon? Not being capable of understanding something?"

"Not being able to understand a weakness?" Simeon sneered. "A relief. Freeing. I don't want to understand it."

The Doctor's eyes sparkled, slightly sadly. "You think _trust_ is a weakness? You think that the indescribable bond, the glimmering warmth only felt by two people who trust one another, well and truly, is a weakness? When you look at someone – and they're all you can see; you can literally feel their heartbeat in your own chest – and you just know you can share the world with them, and not one word would be judged or ever used against you. You turn something beautiful Simeon, something so beautiful that there are no words to describe it, and you think of it as something which has to be hated. You're entire existence is a weakness, I hope you know that."

"Touching, Doctor, very touching, but I think I need to step up my levels up persuasion." He smiled, a knowing smile, supposedly threatening. "Tell me where she is, Doctor."

"I just told you she doesn't have the scrolls," the Doctor spat.

Simeon shrugged and started to back away. "I want to hear that from her."

The Doctor stepped into the middle of the circle. His vision was glued on Simeon, like a magnet to its opposite, and his warm hazel eyes blazed with defiance. He lifted his arms up to the point of his shoulders, in an unwavering straight line, and his hands twisted into fists.

"You might as well kill me then!" the Doctor yelled, both of his hearts hammering to the rhythm of his anger. "Go on, do it! I will protect her with my life, Simeon, don't doubt that! I will protect her with my life."

* * *

** Note: Hope you liked it! Please remember to review, I love hearing from every single one of you. Next chapter – bring tissues. Well, next chapter or the one after, depending on how long they turn out. Thank you for reading, and I'll update soon within the next few days! **


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